THE -SON -OF/ 
THE'WOLPV 


c 


:JBRARY 
JMIVER5ITY  Of 
CALIPORhMA 


MALEMUTE  KID  HALTED  HIM  (page  64) 


THE   SON  OF  THE  WOLF 


€ale#  of  tfje  far 


BY 

JACK  LONDON 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

Otfc  ttfcetffte  prcf 3^,  Cambribge 

1900 


COPYRIGHT,  1900,  BY  JACK  LONDON 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


SERVICE 


TO 

THE  SONS  OF  THE  WOLF 

WHO  SOUGHT  THEIR  HERITAGE  AND 

LEFT  THEIR  BONES  AMONG  THE 

SHADOWS  OF  THE 

CIRCLE 


795 


CONTENTS 

PAGB 

THE  WHITE  SILENCE 1 

THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 21 

THE  MEN  OF  FORTY-MILE 52 

IN  A  FAR  COUNTRY 69 

To  THE  MAN  ON  TRAIL     .        .        .        .        .        .102 

THE  PRIESTLY  PREROGATIVE          ....  119 

THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  TRAIL 145 

THE  WIFE  OF  A  KING 160 

AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH 190 

The  gathering  of  these  tales  under  one  cover  is  due  to  the 
courtesy  of  the  "Overland  Monthly"  and  the  "Atlantic 
Monthly,"  in  the  pages  of  which  magazines  they  have  already 
seen  print. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 


THE  WHITE  SILENCE 

"CARMEN  won't  last  more  than  a  couple 
of  days."  Mason  spat  out  a  chunk  of  ice 
and  surveyed  the  poor  animal  ruefully,  then 
put  her  foot  in  his  mouth  and  proceeded  to 
bite  out  the  ice  which  clustered  cruelly  be 
tween  the  toes. 

"I  never  saw  a  dog  with  a  highfalutin' 
name  that  ever  was  worth  a  rap/'  he  said,  as 
he  concluded  his  task  and  shoved  her  aside. 
"  They  just  fade  away  and  die  under  the 
responsibility.  Did  ye  ever  see  one  go  wrong 
with  a  sensible  name  like  Cassiar,  Siwash,  or 
Husky  ?  No,  sir !  Take  a  look  at  Shookum 
here,  he 's  "  — 

Snap  !  The  lean  brute  flashed  up;  the 
white  teeth  just  missing  Mason's  throat. 

"  Ye  will,  will  ye  ?  "  A  shrewd  clout  be 
hind  the  ear  with  the  butt  of  the  dogwhip 


2  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

stretched  the  animal  in  the  snow,  quivering 
softly,  a  yellow  slaver  dripping  from  its 
fangs. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  just  look  at  Shookum, 
here  —  he  's  got  the  spirit.  Bet  ye  he  eats 
Carmen  before  the  week  's  out." 

"  I  '11  bank  another  proposition  against 
that,"  replied  Malemute  Kid,  reversing  the 
frozen  bread  placed  before  the  fire  to  thaw. 
"  We  '11  eat  Shookum  before  the  trip  is  over. 
What  d'ye  say,  Ruth?" 

The  Indian  woman  settled  the  coffee  with 
a  piece  of  ice,  glanced  from  Malemute  Kid  to 
her  husband,  then  at  the  dogs,  but  vouch 
safed  no  reply.  It  was  such  a  palpable  tru 
ism  that  none  was  necessary.  Two  hundred 
miles  of  unbroken  trail  in  prospect,  with  a 
scant  six  days'  grub  for  themselves  and  none 
for  the  dogs,  could  admit  no  other  alterna 
tive.  The  two  men  and  the  woman  grouped 
about  the  fire  and  began  their  meagre  meal. 
The  dogs  lay  in  their  harnesses,  for  it  was  a 
midday  halt,  and  watched  each  mouthful 
enviously. 

"  No  more  lunches  after  to-day,"  said 
Malemute  Kid.  "  And  we  've  got  to  keep 
a  close  eye  on  the  dogs,  —  they  're  getting 


THE   WHITE   SILENCE  3 

vicious.  They  'd  just  as  soon  pull  a  fellow 
down  as  not,  if  they  get  a  chance." 

"  And  I  was  president  of  an  Epworth  once, 
and  taught  in  the  Sunday  school."  Hav 
ing  irrelevantly  delivered  himself  of  this, 
Mason  fell  into  a  dreamy  contemplation  of 
his  steaming  moccasins,  but  was  aroused  by 
Kuth  filling  his  cup.  "  Thank  God,  we  've 
got  slathers  of  tea !  I  've  seen  it  growing, 
down  in  Tennessee.  What  would  n't  I  give 
for  a  hot  corn  pone  just  now  !  Never  mind, 
Ruth ;  you  won't  starve  much  longer,  nor 
wear  moccasins  either." 

The  woman  threw  off  her  gloom  at  this, 
and  in  her  eyes  welled  up  a  great  love  for  her 
white  lord,  —  the  first  white  man  she  had 
ever  seen,  —  the  first  man  whom  she  had 
known  to  treat  a  woman  as  something  better 
than  a  mere  animal  or  beast  of  burden. 

"Yes,  Ruth,"  continued  her  husband, 
having  recourse  to  the  macaronic  jargon  in 
which  it  was  alone  possible  for  them  to  under 
stand  each  other  ;  "  wait  till  we  clean  up  and 
pull  for  the  Outside.  We  '11  take  the  White 
Man's  canoe  and  go  to  the  Salt  Water.  Yes, 
bad  water,  rough  water,  —  great  mountains 
dance  up  and  down  all  the  time.  And  so  big, 


4  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

so  far,  so  far  away,  —  you  travel  ten  sleep, 
twenty  sleep,  forty  sleep  "  (he  graphically 
enumerated  the  days  on  his  fingers),  "  all  the 
time  water,  bad  water.  Then  you  come  to 
great  village,  plenty  people,  just  the  same  mos 
quitoes  next  summer.  Wigwams  oh,  so  high, 
-  ten,  twenty  pines.  Hi-yu  skookum  !  " 

He  paused  impotently,  cast  an  appealing 
glance  at  Malemute  Kid,  then  laboriously 
placed  the  twenty  pines,  end  on  end,  by  sign 
language.  Malemute  Kid  smiled  with  cheery 
cynicism;  but  Ruth's  eyes  were  wide  with 
wonder,  and  with  pleasure ;  for  she  half  be 
lieved  he  was  joking,  and  such  condescension 
pleased  her  poor  woman's  heart. 

"  And  then  you  step  into  a  —  a  box,  and 
pouf !  up  you  go."  He  tossed  his  empty 
cup  in  the  air  by  way  of  illustration,  and  as 
he  deftly  caught  it,  cried  :  "  And  biff  !  down 
you  come.  Oh,  great  medicine-men !  You 
go  Fort  Yukon,  I  go  Arctic  City,  —  twenty- 
five  sleep,  —  big  string,  all  the  time,  —  I 
catch  him  string,  —  I  say,  '  Hello,  Ruth  ! 
How  are  ye  ?  '  —  and  you  say,  '  Is  that  my 
good  husband  ? '  —  and  I  say  '  Yes,'  —  and 
you  say,  '  No  can  bake  good  bread,  no  more 
soda,'  -  -  then  I  say,  '  Look  in  cache,  under 


THE   WHITE   SILENCE  5 

flour ;  good-by.'  You  look  and  catch  plenty 
soda.  All  the  time  you  Fort  Yukon,  me 
Arctic  City.  Hi-yu  medicine-man  !  " 

Ruth  smiled  so  ingenuously  at  the  fairy 
story,  that  both  men  burst  into  laughter.  A 
row  among  the  dogs  cut  short  the  wonders 
of  the  Outside,  and  by  the  time  the  snarling 
combatants  were  separated,  she  had  lashed 
the  sleds  and  all  was  ready  for  the  trail. 

"Mush!  Baldy!  Hi!  Mush  on!"  Mason 
worked  his  whip  smartly,  and  as  the  dogs 
whined  low  in  the  traces,  broke  out  the  sled 
with  the  gee-pole.  Ruth  followed  with  the 
second  team,  leaving  Malemute  Kid,  who  had 
helped  her  start,  to  bring  up  the  rear.  Strong 
man,  brute  that  he  was,  capable  of  feUing  an 
ox  at  a  blow,  he  could  not  bear  to  beat  the 
poor  animals,  but  humored  them  as  a  dog- 
driver  rarely  does,  —  nay,  almost  wept  with 
them  in  their  misery. 

"  Come,  mush  on  there,  you  poor  sore- 
footed  brutes !  "  he  murmured,  after  several 
ineffectual  attempts  to  start  the  load.  But 
his  patience  was  at  last  rewarded,  and  though 
whimpering  with  pain,  they  hastened  to  join 
their  fellows. 


6  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

No  more  conversation  ;  the  toil  of  the  trail 
will  not  permit  such  extravagance.  And  of 
all  deadening  labors,  that  of  the  Northland 
trail  is  the  worst.  Happy  is  the  man  who 
can  weather  a  day's  travel  at  the  price  of 
silence,  and  that  on  a  beaten  track. 

And  of  all  heart-breaking  labors,  that  of 
breaking  trail  is  the  worst.  At  every  step 
the  great  webbed  shoe  sinks  till  the  snow  is 
level  with  the  knee.  Then  up,  straight  up, 
the  deviation  of  a  fraction  of  an  inch  being 
a  certain  precursor  of  disaster,  the  snowshoe 
must  be  lifted  till  the  surface  is  cleared ;  then 
forward,  down,  and  the  other  foot  is  raised 
perpendicularly  for  the  matter  of  half  a  yard. 
He  who  tries  this  for  the  first  time,  if  haply 
he  avoids  bringing  his  shoes  in  dangerous 

O        O  & 

propinquity  and  measures  not  his  length  on 
the  treacherous  footing,  will  give  up  ex 
hausted  at  the  end  of  a  hundred  yards ;  he 
who  can  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  dogs  for 
a  whole  day  may  well  crawl  into  his  sleeping- 
bag  with  a  clear  conscience  and  a  pride  which 
passeth  all  understanding ;  and  he  who  trav 
els  twenty  sleeps  on  the  Long  Trail  is  a  man 
whom  the  gods  may  envy. 

The  afternoon  wore  on,  and  with  the  awe, 


THE  WHITE  SILENCE  7 

born  of  the  White  Silence,  the  voiceless  trav 
elers  bent  to  their  work.  Nature  has  many 
tricks  wherewith  she  convinces  man  of  his 
finity,  —  the  ceaseless  flow  of  the  tides,  the 
fury  of  the  storm,  the  shock  of  the  earth 
quake,  the  long  roll  of  heaven's  artillery,  — 
but  the  most  tremendous,  the  most  stupefy 
ing  of  all,  is  the  passive  phase  of  the  White 
Silence.  All  movement  ceases,  the  sky  clears, 
the  heavens  are  as  brass ;  the  slightest  whis 
per  seems  sacrilege,  and  man  becomes  timid, 
affrighted  at  the  sound  of  his  own  'voice. 
Sole  speck  of  life  journeying  across  the 
ghostly  wastes  of  a  dead  world,  he  trembles 
at  his  audacity,  realizes  that  his  is  a  maggot's 
life,  nothing  more.  Strange  thoughts  arise 
unsummoned,  and  the  mystery  of  all  things 
strives  for  utterance.  And  the  fear  of  death, 
of  God,  of  the  universe,  comes  over  him, — 
the  hope  of  the  Kesurrection  and  the  Life, 
the  yearning  for  immortality,  the  vain  striv 
ing  of  the  imprisoned  essence,  —  it  is  then, 
if  ever,  man  walks  alone  with  God. 

So  wore  the  day  away.  The  river  took  a 
great  bend,  and  Mason  headed  his  team  for 
the  cut-off  across  the  narrow  neck  of  land. 
But  the  dogs  balked  at  the  high  bank. 


8  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

Again  and  again,  though  Kuth  and  Male- 
mute  Kid  were  shoving  on  the  sled,  they 
slipped  back.  Then  came  the  concerted 
effort.  The  miserable  creatures,  weak  from 
hunger,  exerted  their  last  strength.  Up  — 
up  —  the  sled  poised  on  the  top  of  the  bank ; 
but  the  leader  swung  the  string  of  dogs  be 
hind  him  to  the  right,  fouling  Mason's  snow- 
shoes.  The  result  was  grievous.  Mason  was 
whipped  off  his  feet ;  one  of  the  dogs  fell  in 
the  traces  ;  and  the  sled  toppled  back,  drag 
ging 'every  thing  to  the  bottom  again. 

Slash  !  the  whip  fell  among  the  dogs  sav 
agely,  especially  upon  the  one  which  had 
fallen. 

"  Don't,  Mason,"  entreated  Malemute  Kid ; 
"  the  poor  devil 's  on  its  last  legs.  Wait  and 
we  '11  put  my  team  on." 

Mason  deliberately  withheld  the  whip  till 
the  last  word  had  fallen,  then  out  flashed  the 
long  lash,  completely  curling  about  the  of 
fending  creature's  body.  Carmen  —  for  it 
was  Carmen  —  cowered  in  the  snow,  cried 
piteously,  then  rolled  over  on  her  side. 

It  was  a  tragic  moment,  a  pitiful  incident 
of  the  trail,  —  a  dying  dog,  two  comrades  in 
anger.  Ruth  glanced  solicitously  from  man 


THE   WHITE   SILENCE  9 

to  man.  But  Malemute  Kid  restrained  him 
self,  though  there  was  a  world  of  reproach  in 
his  eyes,  and  bending  over  the  dog,  cut  the 
traces.  No  word  was  spoken.  The  teams 
were  double-spanned  and  the  difficulty  over 
come  ;  the  sleds  were  under  way  again,  the 
dying  dog  dragging  herself  along  in  the  rear. 
As  long  as  an  animal  can  travel,  it  is  not 
shot,  and  this  last  chance  is  accorded  it,  —  the 
crawling  into  camp,  if  it  can,  in  the  hope  of 
a  moose  being  killed. 

Already  penitent  for  his  angry  action,  but 
too  stubborn  to  make  amends,  Mason  toiled 
on  at  the  head  of  the  cavalcade,  little  dream 
ing  that  danger  hovered  in  the  air.  The 
timber  clustered  thick  in  the  sheltered  bot 
tom,  and  through  this  they  threaded  their 
way.  Fifty  feet  or  more  from  the  trail  tow 
ered  a  lofty  pine.  For  generations  it  had 
stood  there,  and  for  generations  destiny  had 
had  this  one  end  in  view,  —  perhaps  the 
same  had  been  decreed  of  Mason. 

He  stooped  to  fasten  the  loosened  thong 
of  his  moccasin.  The  sleds  came  to  a  halt 
and  the  dogs  lay  down  in  the  snow  without 
a  whimper.  The  stillness  was  weird ;  not  a 
breath  rustled  the  frost-encrusted  forest ;  the 


10  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

cold  and  silence  of  outer  space  had  chilled 
the  heart  and  smote  the  trembling  lips  of 
nature.  A  sigh  pulsed  through  the  air,  — 
they  did  not  seem  to  actually  hear  it,  but 
rather  felt  it,  like  the  premonition  of  move 
ment  in  a  motionless  void.  Then  the  great 
tree,  burdened  with  its  weight  of  years  and 
snow,  played  its  last  part  in  the  tragedy  of 
life.  He  heard  the  warning  crash  and  at 
tempted  to  spring  up,  but  almost  erect, 
caught  the  blow  squarely  on  the  shoulder. 

The  sudden  danger,  the  quick  death,  — 
how  often  had  Malemute  Kid  faced  it !  The 
pine  needles  were  still  quivering  as  he  gave 
his  commands  and  sprang  into  action.  Nor 
did  the  Indian  girl  faint  or  raise  her  voice  in 
idle  wailing,  as  might  many  of  her  white  sis 
ters.  At  his  order,  she  threw  her  weight  on 
the  end  of  a  quickly  extemporized  handspike, 
easing  the  pressure  and  listening  to  her  hus 
band's  groans,  while  Malemute  Kid  attacked 
the  tree  with  his  axe.  The  steel  rang  merrily 
as  it  bit  into  the  frozen  trunk,  each  stroke 
being  accompanied  by  a  forced,  audible  re 
spiration,  the  "  Huh  !  "  "  Huh  !  "  of  the 
woodsman. 

At  last  the  Kid  laid  the  pitiable  thing  that 


THE  WHITE  SILENCE  11 

was  once  a  man  in  the  snow.  But  worse 
than  his  comrade's  pain  was  the  dumb  an 
guish  in  the  woman's  face,  the  blended  look 
of  hopeful,  hopeless  query.  Little  was  said ; 
those  of  the  Northland  are  early  taught  the 
futility  of  words  and  the  inestimable  value 
of  deeds.  With  the  temperature  at  sixty-five 
below  zero,  a  man  cannot  lie  many  minutes 
in  the  snow  and  live.  So  the  sled-lashings 
were  cut,  and  the  sufferer,  rolled  in  furs,  laid 
on  a  couch  of  boughs.  Before  him  roared  a 
fire,  built  of  the  very  wood  which  wrought 
the  mishap.  Behind  and  partially  over  him 
was  stretched  the  primitive  fly,  —  a  piece  of 
canvas,  which  caught  the  radiating  heat  and 
threw  it  back  and  down  upon  him,  —  a  trick 
which  men  may  know  who  study  physics  at 
the  fount. 

And  men  who  have  shared  their  bed  with 
death  know  when  the  call  is  sounded.  Mason 
was  terribly  crushed.  The  most  cursory  ex 
amination  revealed  it.  His  right  arm,  leg, 
and  back,  were  broken  ;  his  limbs  were  para 
lyzed  from  the  hips ;  and  the  likelihood  of 
internal  injuries  was  large.  An  occasional 
moan  was  his  only  sign  of  life. 

No  hope ;  nothing  to  be  done.     The  piti- 


12  THE   SON   OF   THE  WOLF 

less  night  crept  slowly  by,  —  Ruth's  portion, 
the  despairing  stoicism  of  her  race,  and  Male- 
mute  Kid  adding  new  lines  to  his  face  of 
bronze.  In  fact,  Mason  suffered  least  of  all, 
for  he  spent  his  time  in  Eastern  Tennessee, 
in  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains,  living  over 
the  scenes  of  his  childhood.  And  most  pa 
thetic  was  the  melody  of  his  long-forgotten 
Southern  vernacular,  as  he  raved  of  swim 
ming-holes  and  coon-hunts  and  watermelon 
raids.  It  was  as  Greek  to  Ruth,  but  the 
Kid  understood  and  felt,  —  felt  as  only  one 
can  feel  who  has  been  shut  out  for  years 
from  all  that  civilization  means. 

Morning  brought  consciousness  to  the 
stricken  man,  and  Malemute  Kid  bent  closer 
to  catch  his  whispers. 

"  You  remember  when  we  foregathered  on 
the  Tanana,  four  years  come  next  ice-run  ?  I 
did  n't  care  so  much  for  her  then.  It  was 
more  like  she  was  pretty,  and  there  was  a 
smack  of  excitement  about  it,  I  think.  But 
d'  ye  know,  I  've  come  to  think  a  heap  of 
her.  She 's  been  a  good  wife  to  me,  always 
at  my  shoulder  in  the  pinch.  And  when  it 
comes  to  trading,  you  know  there  is  n't  her 
equal.  D'  ye  recollect  the  time  she  shot  the 


THE  WHITE   SILENCE  13 

Moosehorn  Rapids  to  pull  you  and  me  off 
that  rock,  the  bullets  whipping  the  water  like 
hailstones  ?  —  and  the  time  of  the  famine  at 
Nuklukyeto  ?  —  or  when  she  raced  the  ice- 
run  to  bring  the  news  ?  Yes,  she 's  been  a 
good  wife  to  me,  better  'n  that  other  one. 
Didn't  know  I'd  been  there?  Never  told 
you,  eh  ?  Well,  I  tried  it  once,  down  in  the 
States.  That 's  why  I  'm  here.  Been  raised 
together,  too.  I  came  away  to  give  her  a 
chance  for  divorce.  She  got  it. 

"  But  that 's  got  nothing  to  do  with  Ruth. 
I  had  thought  of  cleaning  up  and  pulling  for 
the  Outside  next  year,  —  her  and  I,  —  but 
it 's  too  late.  Don't  send  her  back  to  her 
people,  Kid.  It 's  beastly  hard  for  a  woman 
to  go  back.  Think  of  it !  —  nearly  four 
years  on  our  bacon  and  beans  and  flour  and 
dried  fruit,  and  then  to  go  back  to  her  fish 
and  cariboo.  It 's  not  good  for  her  to  have 
tried  our  ways,  to  come  to  know  they  're  bet 
ter  'n  her  people's,  and  then  return  to  them. 
Take  care  of  her,  Kid,  —  why  don't  you,  — 
but  no,  you  always  fought  shy  of  them,  — 
and  you  never  told  me  why  you  came  to  this 
country.  Be  kind  to  her,  and  send  her  back 
to  the  States  as  soon  as  you  can.  But  fix  it 


14  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

so  as  she  can  come  back,  —  liable  to  get 
homesick,  you  know. 

"  And  the  youngster  —  it 's  drawn  us 
closer,  Kid.  I  only  hope  it  is  a  boy.  Think 
of  it !  —  flesh  of  my  flesh,  Kid.  He  must  n't 
stop  in  this  country.  And  if  it 's  a  girl,  why 
she  can't.  Sell  my  furs ;  they  '11  fetch  at 
least  five  thousand,  and  I  've  got  as  much 
more  with  the  company.  And  handle  my 
interests  with  yours.  I  think  that  bench 
claim  will  show  up.  See  that  he  gets  a 
good  schooling;  and  Kid,  above  all,  don't 
let  him  come  back.  This  country  was  not 
made  for  white  men. 

"  I  'm  a  gone  man,  Kid.  Three  or  four 
sleeps  at  the  best.  You've  got  to  go  on. 
You  must  go  on  !  Remember,  it 's  my  wife, 
it 's  my  boy,  —  0  God  !  I  hope  it 's  a  boy  ! 
You  can't  stay  by  me,  —  and  I  charge  you,  a 
dying  man,  to  pull  on." 

"  Give  me  three  days,"  pleaded  Malemute 
Kid.  "  You  may  change  for  the  better ; 
something  may  turn  up." 

"  No." 

"Just  three  days." 

"  You  must  pull  on." 

"Two  days." 


THE   WHITE   SILENCE  15 

"It's  my  wife  and  my  boy,  Kid.  You 
would  not  ask  it." 

"  One  day." 

"  No,  no  !     I  charge  "  — 

"  Only  one  day.  We  can  shave  it  through  on 
the  grub,  and  I  might  knock  over  a  moose." 

"  No,  —  all  right ;  one  day,  but  not  a 
minute  more.  And  Kid,  don't  —  don't  leave 
me  to  face  it  alone.  Just  a  shot,  one  pull  on 
the  trigger.  You  understand.  Think  of  it ! 
Think  of  it!  Flesh  of  my  flesh,  and  I'll 
never  live  to  see  him  ! 

"  Send  Ruth  here.  I  want  to  say  good-by 
and  tell  her  that  she  must  think  of  the  boy 
and  not  wait  till  I  'm  dead.  She  might  refuse 
to  go  with  you  if  I  didn't.  Good-by,  old 
man ;  good-by. 

"  Kid !  I  say  —  a  —  sink  a  hole  above  the 
pup,  next  to  the  slide.  I  panned  out  forty 
cents  on  my  shovel  there. 

"  And  Kid  ! "  he  stooped  lower  to  catch 
the  last  faint  words,  the  dying  man's  sur 
render  of  his  pride.  "  I  'm  sorry  —  for  — 
you  know  —  Carmen." 

Leaving  the  girl  crying  softly  over  her 
man,  Malemute  Kid  slipped  into  his  parka 
and  snowshoes,  tucked  his  rifle  under  his 


16  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

arm,  and  crept  away  into  the  forest.  He 
was  no  tyro  in  the  stern  sorrows  of  the 
Northland,  but  never  had  he  faced  so  stiff  a 
problem  as  this.  In  the  abstract,  it  was  a 
plain,  mathematical  proposition,  —  three  pos 
sible  lives  as  against  one  doomed  one.  But 
now  he  hesitated.  For  five  years,  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  on  the  rivers  and  trails,  in  the 
camps  and  mines,  facing  death  by  field  and 
flood  and  famine,  had  they  knitted  the  bonds 
of  their  comradeship.  So  close  was  the  tie, 
that  he  had  often  been  conscious  of  a  vague 
jealousy  of  Ruth,  from  the  first  time  she  had 
come  between.  And  now  it  must  be  severed 
by  his  own  hand. 

Though  he  prayed  for  a  moose,  just  one 
moose,  all  game  seemed  to  have  deserted  the 
land,  and  nightfall  found  the  exhausted  man 

f  O 

crawling  into  camp,  light-handed,  heavy- 
hearted.  An  uproar  from  the  dogs  and 
shrill  cries  from  Ruth  hastened  him. 

Bursting  into  the  camp,  he  saw  the  girl  in 
the  midst  of  the  snarling  pack,  laying  about 
her  with  an  axe.  The  dogs  had  broken  the 
iron  rule  of  their  masters  and  were  rushing 
the  grub.  He  joined  the  issue  with  his  rifle 
reversed,  and  the  hoary  game  of  natural  selec- 


THE  WHITE  SILENCE  17 

tion  was  played  out  with  all  the  ruthlessness 
of  its  primeval  environment.  Rifle  and  axe 
went  up  and  down,  hit  or  missed  with  monot 
onous  regularity;  lithe  bodies  flashed,  with 
wild  eyes  and  dripping  fangs ;  and  man  and 
beast  fought  for  supremacy  to  the  bitterest 
conclusion.  Then  the  beaten  brutes  crept  to 
the  edge  of  the  firelight,  licking  their  wounds, 
voicing  their  misery  to  the  stars. 

The  whole  stock  of  dried  salmon  had  been 
devoured,  and  perhaps  five  pounds  of  flour 
remained  to  tide  them  over  two  hundred 
miles  of  wilderness.  Ruth  returned  to  her 
husband,  while  Malemute  Kid  cut  up  the 
warm  body  of  one  of  the  dogs,  the  skull  of 
which  had  been  crushed  by  the  axe.  Every 
portion  was  carefully  put  away,  save  the  hide 
and  offal,  which  were  cast  to  his  fellows  of 
the  moment  before. 

Morning  brought  fresh  trouble.  The  ani 
mals  were  turning  on  each  other.  Carmen, 
who  still  clung  to  her  slender  thread  of  life, 
was  downed  by  the  pack.  The  lash  fell 
among  them  unheeded.  They  cringed  and 
cried  under  the  blows,  but  refused  to  scatter 
till  the  last  wretched  bit  had  disappeared,  — 
bones,  hide,  hair,  everything. 


18  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

Malemute  Kid  went  about  his  work,  listen 
ing  to  Mason,  who  was  back  in  Tennessee, 
delivering  tangled  discourses  and  wild  exhor 
tations  to  his  brethren  of  other  days. 

Taking  advantage  of  neighboring  pines, 
he  worked  rapidly,  and  Ruth  watched  him 
make  a  cache  similar  to  those  sometimes 
used  by  hunters  to  preserve  their  meat  from 
the  wolverines  and  dogs.  One  after  the 
other,  he  bent  the  tops  of  two  small  pines 
toward  each  other  and  nearly  to  the  ground, 
making  them  fast  with  thongs  of  moosehide. 
Then  he  beat  the  dogs  into  submission  and 
harnessed  them  to  two  of  the  sleds,  loading 
the  same  with  everything  but  the  furs  which 
enveloped  Mason.  These  he  wrapped  and 
lashed  tightly  about  him,  fastening  either 
end  of  the  robes  to  the  bent  pines.  A  sin 
gle  stroke  of  his  hunting-knife  would  release 
them  and  send  the  body  high  in  the  air. 

Ruth  had  received  her  husband's  last 
wishes  and  made  no  struggle.  Poor  girl, 
she  had  learned  the  lesson  of  obedience  well. 
From  a  child,  she  had  bowed,  and  seen  all  wo 
men  bow,  to  the  lords  of  creation,  and  it  did 
not  seem  in  the  nature  of  things  for  woman 


THE  WHITE   SILENCE  19 

to  resist.  The  Kid  permitted  her  one  out 
burst  of  grief,  as  she  kissed  her  husband,  — 
her  own  people  had  no  such  custom,  —  then 
led  her  to  the  foremost  sled  and  helped  her 
into  her  snowshoes.  Blindly,  instinctively, 
she  took  the  gee-pole  and  whip,  and 
"mushed"  the  dogs  out  on  the  trail.  Then 
he  returned  to  Mason,  who  had  fallen  into  a 
coma  ;  and  long  after  she  was  out  of  sight, 
crouched  by  the  fire,  waiting,  hoping,  praying 
for  his  comrade  to  die. 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  be  alone  with  painful 
thoughts  in  the  White  Silence.  The  silence 
of  gloom  is  merciful,  shrouding  one  as  with 
protection  and  breathing  a  thousand  intangi 
ble  sympathies;  but  the  bright  White  Si 
lence,  clear  and  cold,  under  steely  skies,  is 
pitiless. 

An  hour  passed,  —  two  hours,  —  but  the 
man  would  not  die.  At  high  noon,  the  sun, 
without  raising  its  rim  above  the  southern 
horizon,  threw  a  suggestion  of  fire  athwart 
the  heavens,  then  quickly  drew  it  back. 
Malemute  Kid  roused  and  dragged  himself 
to  his  comrade's  side.  He  cast  one  glance 
about  him.  The  White  Silence  seemed  to 


20  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

sneer,  and  a  great  fear  came  upon  him. 
There  was  a  sharp  report ;  Mason  swung  into 
his  aerial  sepulchre ;  and  Malemute  Kid 
lashed  the  dogs  into  a  wild  gallop  as  he  fled 
across  the  snow. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

MAN  rarely  places  a  proper  valuation  upon 
his  womankind,  at  least  not  until  deprived  o£ 
them.  He  has  no  conception  of  the  subtle 
atmosphere  exhaled  by  the  sex  feminine  so 
long  as  he  bathes  in  it ;  but  let  it  be  with 
drawn,  and  an  ever-growing  void  begins  to 
manifest  itself  in  his  existence,  and  he  becomes 
hungry,  in  a  vague  sort  of  way,  for  a  some 
thing  so  indefinite  that  he  cannot  character 
ize  it.  If  his  comrades  have  no  more  experi 
ence  than  himself,  they  will  shake  their  heads 
dubiously  and  dose  him  with  strong  physic. 
But  the  hunger  will  continue  and  become 
stronger ;  he  will  lose  interest  in  the  things 
of  his  every-day  life  and  wax  morbid ;  and 
one  day,  when  the  emptiness  has  become  un 
bearable,  a  revelation  will  dawn  upon  him. 

In  the  Yukon  country,  when  this  comes  to 
pass,  the  man  usually  provisions  a  poling-boat, 
if  it  be  summer,  and  if  winter  harnesses  his 
dogs,  and  heads  for  the  Southland.  A  few 
months  later,  supposing  him  to  be  possessed 


22  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

of  a  faith  in  the  country,  he  returns  with  a 
wife  to  share  with  him  in  that  faith,  and  inci 
dentally  in  his  hardships.  This  but  serves  to 
show  the  innate  selfishness  of  man.  It  also 
brings  us  to  the  trouble  of  "  Scruff  "  Macken 
zie,  which  occurred  in  the  old  days,  before 
the  country  was  stampeded  and  staked  by  a 
tidal-wave  of  che-cha-qitas,  and  when  the 
Klondike's  only  claim  to  notice  was  its  salmon 
fisheries. 

Scruff  Mackenzie  bore  the  ear-marks  of  a 
frontier  birth  and  a  frontier  life.  His  face 
was  stamped  with  twenty-five  years  of  inces 
sant  struggle  with  nature  in  her  wildest  moods, 
—  the  last  two,  the  wildest  and  hardest  of  all, 
having  been  spent  in  groping  for  the  gold 
which  lies  in  the  shadow  of  the  Arctic  Circle. 
When  the  yearning  sickness  came  upon  him 
he  was  not  surprised,  for  he  was  a  practical 
man  and  had  seen  other  men  thus  stricken. 
But  he  showed  no  sign  of  his  malady,  save 
that  he  worked  harder.  All  summer  he  fought 
mosquitoes  and  washed  the  sure-thing  bars  of 
the  Stuart  River  for  a  double  grub-stake. 
Then  he  floated  a  raft  of  house-logs  down  the 
Yukon  to  Forty  Mile,  and  put  together  as 
comfortable  a  cabin  as  any  the  camp  could 


THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF  23 

boast  of.  In  fact,  it  showed  such  cosy  pro 
mise  that  many  men  elected  to  be  his  partner 
and  to  come  and  live  with  him.  But  he 
crushed  their  aspirations  with  rough  speech, 
peculiar  for  its  strength  and  brevity,  and 
bought  a  double  supply  of  grub  from  the  trad 
ing-post. 

As  has  been  noted,  Scruff  Mackenzie  was 
a  practical  man.  If  he  wanted  a  thing  he 
usually  got  it,  but  in  doing  so,  went  no 
farther  out  of  his  way  than  was  necessary. 
Though  a  son  of  toil  and  hardship,  he  was 
averse  to  a  journey  of  six  hundred  miles  on 
the  ice,  a  second  of  two  thousand  miles  on 
the  ocean,  and  still  a  third  thousand  miles  or 
so  to  his  last  stamping-grounds,  —  all  in  the 
mere  quest  of  a  wife.  Life  was  too  short.  So 
he  rounded  up  his  dogs,  lashed  a  curious 
freight  to  his  sled,  and  faced  across  the  divide 
whose  westward  slopes  were  drained  by  the 
head-reaches  of  the  Tanana. 

He  was  a  sturdy  traveler,  and  his  wolf-dogs 
could  work  harder  and  travel  farther  on  less 
grub  than  any  other  team  in  the  Yukon. 
Three  weeks  later  he  strode  into  a  hunting- 
camp  of  the  Upper  Tanana  Sticks.  They 
marveled  at  his  temerity  ;  for  they  had  a  bad 


24  THE   SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

name  and  had  been  known  to  kill  white  men 
for  as  trifling  a  thing  as  a  sharp  axe  or  a  broken 
rifle.  But  he  went  among  them  single-handed, 
his  bearing  being  a  delicious  composite  of 
humility,  familiarity,  sancj-froid,  and  inso 
lence.  It  required  a  deft  hand  and  deep 
knowledge  of  the  barbaric  mind  effectually 
to  handle  such  diverse  weapons  ;  but  he  was 
a  past  master  in  the  art,  knowing  when  to 
conciliate  and  when  to  threaten  with  Jove-like 
wrath. 

He  first  made  obeisance  to  the  Chief  Thling- 
Tinneh,  presenting  him  with  a  couple  of 
pounds  of  black  tea  and  tobacco,  and  thereby 
winning  his  most  cordial  regard.  Then  he 
mingled  with  the  men  and  maidens,  and  that 

o  " 

night  gave  &potlao,li*  The  snow  was  beaten 
down  in  the  form  of  an  oblong,  perhaps  a 
hundred  feet  in  length  and  quarter  as  many 
across.  Down  the  centre  a  long  fire  was 
built,  while  either  side  was  carpeted  with 
spruce  boughs.  The  lodges  were  forsaken, 
and  the  fivescore  or  so  members  of  the  tribe 
gave  tongue  to  their  folk-chants  in  honor  of 
their  guest. 

Scruff  Mackenzie's  two  years  had  taught 
him  the  not  many  hundred  words  of  their 


THE   SON   OF   THE  WOLF  25 

vocabulary,  and  he  had  likewise  conquered 
their  deep  gutturals,  their  Japanese  idioms, 
constructions,  and  honorific  and  agglutinative 
particles.  So  he  made  oration  after  their 
manner,  satisfying  their  instinctive  poetry- 
love  with  crude  flights  of  eloquence  and  meta 
phorical  contortions.  After  Thling-Tinneh 
and  the  Shaman  had  responded  in  kind,  he 
made  trifling  presents  to  the  menfolk,  joined 
in  their  singing,  and  proved  an  expert  in 
their  fifty-two-stick  gambling  game. 

And  they  smoked  his  tobacco  and  were 
pleased.  But  among  the  younger  men  there 
was  a  defiant  attitude,  a  spirit  of  braggadocio, 
easily  understood  by  the  raw  insinuations  of 
the  toothless  squaws  and  the  giggling  of  the 
maidens.  They  had  known  few  white  men, 
"  Sons  of  the  Wolf,"  but  from  those  few  they 
had  learned  strange  lessons. 

Nor  had  Scruff  Mackenzie,  for  all  his 
seeming  carelessness,  failed  to  note  these  phe 
nomena.  In  truth,  rolled  in  his  sleeping-furs, 
he  thought  it  all  over,  thought  seriously,  and 
emptied  many  pipes  in  mapping  out  a  cam 
paign.  One  maiden  only  had  caught  his  fancy, 
—  none  other  than  Zarinska,  daughter  to  the 
chief.  In  features,  form,  and  poise,  answer- 


26  THE   SON   OF   THE  WOLF 

ing  more  nearly  to  the  white  man's  type  of 
beauty,  she  was  almost  an  anomaly  among 
her  tribal  sisters.  He  would  possess  her, 
make  her  his  wife,  and  name  her  —  ah,  he 
would  name  her  Gertrude  !  Having  thus  de 
cided,  he  rolled  over  on  his  side  and  dropped 
off  to  sleep,  a  true  son  of  his  all-conquering 
race. 

It  was  slow  work  and  a  stiff   game  ;  but 

O  ' 

Scruff  Mackenzie  manreuvred  cunningly,  with 
an  unconcern  which  served  to  puzzle  the 
Sticks.  He  took  great  care  to  impress  the 
men  that  he  was  a  sure  shot  and  a  mighty 
hunter,  and  the  camp  rang  with  his  plaudits 
when  he  brought  down  a  moose  at  six  hun 
dred  yards.  Of  a  night  he  visited  in  Chief 
Thling-Tinneh's  lodge  of  moose  and  cariboo 
skins,  talking  big  and  dispensing  tobacco  with 
a  lavish  hand.  Nor  did  he  fail  to  likewise  honor 
the  Shaman ;  for  he  realized  the  medicine-man's 
influence  with  his  people,  and  was  anxious  to 
make  of  him  an  ally.  But  that  worthy  was 
high  and  mighty,  refused  to  be  propitiated, 
and  was  unerringly  marked  down  as  a  pro 
spective  enemy. 

Though  no  opening  presented  for  an  inter 
view  with  Zarinska,  Mackenzie  stole  many  a 


THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF  27 

glance  to  her,  giving  fair  warning  of  his  in 
tent.  And  well  she  knew,  yet  coquettishly 
surrounded  herself  with  a  ring  of  women 
whenever  the  men  were  away  and  he  had  a 
chance.  But  he  was  in  no  hurry  ;  besides, 
he  knew  she  could  not  help  but  think  of  him, 
and  a  few  days  of  such  thought  would  only 
better  his  suit. 

At  last,  one  night,  when  he  deemed  the 
time  to  be  ripe,  he  abruptly  left  the  chief's 
smoky  dwelling  and  hastened  to  a  neighbor 
ing  lodge.  As  usual,  she  sat  with  squaws 
and  maidens  about  her,  all  engaged  in  sewing 
moccasins  and  beadwork.  They  laughed  at 
his  entrance,  and  badinage,  which  linked 
Zarinska  to  him,  ran  high.  But  one  after 
the  other  they  were  unceremoniously  bundled 
into  the  outer  snow,  whence  they  hurried  to 
spread  the  tale  through  all  the  camp. 

His  cause  was  well  pleaded,  in  her  tongue, 
for  she  did  not  know  his,  and  at  the  end  of 
two  hours  he  rose  to  go. 

"  So  Zarinska  will  come  to  the  White  Man's 
lodge  ?  Good  !  I  go  now  to  have  talk  with 
thy  father,  for  he  may  not  be  so  minded. 
And  I  will  give  him  many  tokens ;  but  he 
must  not  ask  too  much.  If  he  say  no  ?  Good ! 


28  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

Zarinska  shall  yet  come  to  the  White  Man's 
lodge." 

He  had  already  lifted  the  skin  flap  to  de 
part,  when  a  low  exclamation  brought  him 
back  to  the  girl's  side.  She  brought  herself  to 
her  knees  on  the  bearskin  mat,  her  face  aglow 
with  true  Eve-light,  and  shyly  unbuckled 
his  heavy  belt.  He  looked  down,  perplexed, 
suspicious,  his  ears  alert  for  the  slightest 
sound  without.  But  her  next  move  disarmed 
his  doubt,  and  he  smiled  with  pleasure.  She 
took  from  her  sewing -bag  a  moosehide 
sheath,  brave  with  bright  beadwork,  fantastic 
ally  designed.  She  drew  his  great  hunting- 
knife,  gazed  reverently  along  the  keen  edge, 
half  tempted  to  try  it  with  her  thumb,  and 
shot  it  into  place  in  its  new  home.  Then  she 
slipped  the  sheath  along  the  belt  to  its  custom 
ary  resting-place,  just  above  the  hip. 

For  all  the  world,  it  was  like  a  scene  of 
olden  time,  —  a  lady  and  her  knight.  Mac 
kenzie  drew  her  up  full  height  and  swept 
her  red  lips  with  his  mustache,  —  the,  to  her, 
foreign  caress  of  the  Wolf.  It  was  a  meet 
ing  of  the  stone  age  and  the  steel. 

There  was  a  thrill  of  excitement  in  the  air 


THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF  29 

as  Scruff  Mackenzie,  a  bulky  bundle  under 
his  arm,  threw  open  the  flap  of  Thling- 
Tinneh's  tent.  Children  were  running  about 
in  the  open,  dragging  dry  wood  to  the  scene 
of  the  potlach,  a  babble  of  women's  voices 
was  growing  in  intensity,  the  young  men 
were  consulting  in  sullen  groups,  while  from 
the  Shaman's  lodge  rose  the  eerie  sounds  of 
an  incantation. 

The  chief  was  alone  with  his  blear-eyed 
wife,  but  a  glance  sufficed  to  tell  Mackenzie 
that  the  news  was  already  old.  So  he  plunged 
at  once  into  the  business,  shifting  the  beaded 
sheath  prominently  to  the  fore  as  advertise 
ment  of  the  betrothal. 

"0  Thling-Tinneh,  mighty  chief  of  the 
Sticks  and  the  land  of  the  Tanana,  ruler  of 
the  salmon  and  the  bear,  the  moose  and  the 
cariboo !  The  White  Man  is  before  thee  with 
a  great  purpose.  Many  moons  has  his  lodge 
been  empty,  and  he  is  lonely.  And  his  heart 
has  eaten  itself  in  silence,  and  grown  hungry 
for  a  woman  to  sit  beside  him  in  his  lodge, 
to  meet  him  from  the  hunt  with  warm  fire 
and  good  food.  He  has  heard  strange  things, 
the  patter  of  baby  moccasins  and  the  sound 
of  children's  voices.  And  one  night  a  vision 


30  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

came  upon  him,  and  he  beheld  the  Raven, 
who  is  thy  father,  the  great  Raven,  who 
is  the  father  of  all  the  Sticks.  And  the 
Raven  spake  to  the  lonely  White  Man,  say 
ing  :  '  Bind  thou  thy  moccasins  upon  thee, 
and  gird  thy  snowshoes  on,  and  lash  thy  sled 
with  food  for  many  sleeps  and  fine  tokens  for 
the  Chief  Thling-Tinneh.  For  thou  shalt 
turn  thy  face  to  where  the  midspring  sun  is 
wont  to  sink  below  the  land,  and  journey  to 
this  great  chief's  hunting-grounds.  There 
thou  shalt  make  big  presents,  and  Thling- 
Tinneh,  who  is  my  son,  shall  become  to  thee 
as  a  father.  In  his  lodge  there  is  a  maiden 
into  whom  I  breathed  the  breath  of  life  for 
thee.  This  maiden  shalt  thou  take  to  wife.' 

"  0  Chief,  thus  spake  the  great  Raven ; 
thus  do  I  lay  many  presents  at  thy  feet ;  thus 
am  I  come  to  take  thy  daughter !  " 

The  old  man  drew  his  furs  about  him  with 
crude  consciousness  of  royalty,  but  delayed 
reply  while  a  youngster  crept  in,  delivered  a 
quick  message  to  appear  before  the  council, 
and  was  gone. 

"  0  White  Man,  whom  we  have  named 
Moose-Killer,  also  known  as  the  Wolf,  and  the 
Son  of  the  Wolf !  We  know  thou  comest  of 


THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF  31 

a  mighty  race;  we  are  proud  to  have  thee 
our  potlach-guest -,  but  the  king-salmon  does 
not  mate  with  the  dog-salmon,  nor  the  Raven 
with  the  Wolf." 

"  Not  so  !  "  cried  Mackenzie.  "  The  daugh 
ters  of  the  Raven  have  I  met  in  the  camps 
of  the  Wolf,  —  the  squaw  of  Mortimer,  the 
squaw  of  Tregidgo,  the  squaw  of  Barnaby, 
who  came  two  ice-runs  back,  and  I  have  heard 
of  other  squaws,  though  my  eyes  beheld  them 
not." 

"  Son,  your  words  are  true ;  but  it  were 
evil  mating,  like  the  water  with  the  sand,  like 
the  snowflake  with  the  sun.  But  met  you 
one  Mason  and  his  squaw  ?  No  ?  He  came 
ten  ice-runs  ago,  —  the  first  of  all  the  Wolves. 
And  with  him  there  was  a  mighty  man, 
straight  as  a  willow-shoot,  and  tall ;  strong  as 
the  bald-faced  grizzly,  with  a  heart  like  the 
full  summer  moon;  his"  — 

"  Oh  !  "  interrupted  Mackenzie,  recogniz 
ing  the  well-known  Northland  figure, — 
"MalemuteKid!" 

"  The  same,  —  a  mighty  man.  But  saw 
you  aught  of  the  squaw  ?  She  was  full  sis 
ter  to  Zarinska." 

"  Nay,  Chief ;  but  I  have  heard.     Mason 


32  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

—  far,  far  to  the  north,  a  spruce-tree,  heavy 
with  years,  crushed  out  his  life  beneath.  But 
his  love  was  great,  and  he  had  much  gold. 
With  this,  and  her  boy,  she  journeyed  count 
less  sleeps  toward  the  winter's  noonday  sun, 
and  there  she  yet  lives,  —  no  biting  frost,  no 
snow,  no  summer's  midnight  sun,  no  winter's 
noonday  night." 

'  A  second  messenger  interrupted  with  im 
perative  summons  from  the  council.  As  Mac 
kenzie  threw  him  into  the  snow,  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  swaying  forms  before  the 
council-fire,  heard  the  deep  basses  of  the  men 
in  rhythmic  chant,  and  knew  the  Shaman 
was  fanning  the  anger  of  his  people.  Time 
pressed.  He  turned  upon  the  chief. 

"  Come  !  I  wish  thy  child.  And  now. 
See !  here  are  tobacco,  tea,  many  cups  of 
sugar,  warm  blankets,  handkerchiefs,  both 
good  and  large ;  and  here,  a  true  rifle,  with 
many  bullets  and  much  powder." 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  old  man,  struggling 
against  the  great  wealth  spread  before  him. 
"  Even  now  are  my  people  come  together. 
They  will  not  have  this  marriage." 

"  But  thou  art  chief." 

"  Yet  do  my  young  men  rage  because  the 


THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF  33 

Wolves  have  taken  their  maidens  so  that  they 
may  not  marry." 

"  Listen,  0  Thling-Tinneh  !  Ere  the  night 
has  passed  into  the  day,  the  Wolf  shall  face 
his  dogs  to  the  Mountains  of  the  East  and 
fare  forth  to  the  Country  of  the  Yukon.  -And 
Zarinska  shall  break  trail  for  his  dogs." 

"And  ere  the  night  has  gained  its  middle, 
my  young  men  may  fling  to  the  dogs  the 
flesh  of  the  Wolf,  and  his  bones  be  scattered 
in  the  snow  till  the  springtime  lay  them  bare." 

It  was  threat  and  counter-threat.  Mac 
kenzie's  bronzed  face  flushed  darkly.  He 
raised  his  voice.  The  old  squaw,  who  till 
now  had  sat  an  impassive  spectator,  made  to 
creep  by  him  for  the  door.  The  song  of  the 
men  broke  suddenly,  and  there  was  a  hubbub 
of  many  voices  as  he  whirled  the  old  woman 
roughly  to  her  couch  of  skins. 

"  Again  I  cry  —  listen,  0  Thling-Tinneh  ! 
The  Wolf  dies  with  teeth  fast-locked,  and 
with  him  there  shall  sleep  ten  of  thy  strong 
est  men,  —  men  who  are  needed,  for  the 
hunting  is  but  begun,  and  the  fishing  is  not 
many  moons  away.  And  again,  of  what 
profit  should  I  die  ?  I  know  the  custom  of 
thy  people  ;  thy  share  of  my  wealth  shall  be 


34  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

very  small.  Grant  me  thy  child,  and  it  shall 
all  be  thine.  And  yet  again,  my  brothers 
will  come,  and  they  are  many,  and  their  maws 
are  never  filled ;  and  the  daughters  of  the 
Raven  shall  bear  children  in  the  lodges  of  the 
Wolf.  My  people  are  greater  than  thy  peo 
ple.  It  is  destiny.  Grant,  and  all  this 
wealth  is  thine." 

Moccasins  were  crunching  the  snow  with 
out.  Mackenzie  threw  his  rifle  to  cock,  and 
loosened  the  twin  Colts  in  his  belt. 

"  Grant,  0  Chief  !  " 

"  And  yet  will  my  people  say  no." 

"  Grant,  and  the  wealth  is  thine.  Then 
shall  I  deal  with  thy  people  after." 

"The  Wolf  will  have  it  so.  I  will  take 
his  tokens,  —  but  I  would  warn  him." 

Mackenzie  passed  over  the  goods,  taking 
care  to  clog  the  rifle's  ejector,  and  capping 
the  bargain  with  a  T^aleidoscopic  silk  kerchief. 
The  Shaman  and  half  a  dozen  young  braves 
entered,  but  he  shouldered  boldly  among 
them  and  passed  out. 

"  Pack  !  "  was  his  laconic  greeting  to  Za- 
rinska  as  he  passed  her  lodge  and  hurried  to 
harness  his  dogs.  A  few  minutes  later  he 
swept  into  the  council  at  the  head  of  the  team, 


THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF  35 

the  woman  by  his  side.  He  took  his  place  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  oblong,  by  the  side  of 
the  chief.  To  his  left,  a  step  to  the  rear,  he 
stationed  Zarinska,  —  her  proper  place.  Be 
sides,  the  time  was  ripe  for  mischief,  and  there 
was  need  to  guard  his  back. 

On  either  side,  the  men  crouched  to  the 
fire,  their  voices  lifted  in  a  folk-chant  out  of 
the  forgotten  past.  Full  of  strange,  halting 
cadences  and  haunting  recurrences,  it  was  not 
beautiful.  "  Fearful"  may  inadequately  ex 
press  it.  At  the  lower  end,  under  the  eye  of 
the  Shaman,  danced  half  a  score  of  women. 
Stern  were  his  reproofs  to  those  who  did  not 
wholly  abandon  themselves  to  the  ecstasy  of 
the  rite.  Half  hidden  in  their  heavy  masses  of 
raven  hair,  all  disheveled  and  falling  to  their 
waists,  they  slowly  swayed  to  and  fro,  their 
forms  rippling  to  an  ever-changing  rhythm. 

It  was  a  weird  scene ;  an  anachronism. 
To  the  south,  the  nineteenth  century  was 
reeling  off  the  few  years  of  its  last  decade ; 
here  flourished  man  primeval,  a  shade  re 
moved  from  the  prehistoric  cave-dweller,  a 
forgotten  fragment  of  the  Elder  World.  The 
tawny  wolf-dogs  sat  between  their  skin-clad 
masters  or  fought  for  room,  the  firelight  cast 


36  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

backward  from  their  red  eyes  and  slavered 
fangs.  The  woods,  in  ghostly  shroud,  slept 
on  unheeding.  The  White  Silence,  for  the 
moment  driven  to  the  rimming  forest,  seemed 
ever  crushing  inward ;  the  stars  danced  with 
great  leaps,  as  is  their  wont  in  the  time  of 
the  Great  Cold  ;  while  the  Spirits  of  the  Pole 
trailed  their  robes  of  glory  athwart  the  hea 
vens. 

Scruff  Mackenzie  dimly  realized  the  wild 
grandeur  of  the  setting  as  his  eyes  ranged 
down  the  fur-fringed  sides  in  quest  of  miss 
ing  faces.  They  rested  for  a  moment  on  a 
newborn  babe,  suckling  at  its  mother's  naked 
breast.  It  was  forty  below,  —  seventy  and 
odd  degrees  of  frost.  He  thought  of  the  ten 
der  women  of  his  own  race,  and  smiled  grimly. 
Yet  from  the  loins  of  some  such  tender  woman 
had  he  sprung  with  a  kingly  inheritance,  — 
an  inheritance  which  gave  to  him  and  his  dom 
inance  over  the  land  and  sea,  over  the  ani 
mals  and  the  peoples  of  all  the  zones.  Single- 
handed  against  fivescore,  girt  by  the  Arctic 
winter,  far  from  his  own,  he  felt  the  prompt 
ing  of  his  heritage,  the  desire  to  possess, 
the  wild  danger-love,  the  thrill  of  battle,  the 
power  to  conquer  or  to  die. 


THE  SON  OF  THE   WOLF  37 

The  singing  and  the  dancing  ceased,  and 
the  Shaman  flared  up  in  rude  eloquence. 
Through  the  sinuosities  of  their  vast  my 
thology,  he  worked  cunningly  upon  the  cre 
dulity  of  his  people.  The  case  was  strong. 
Opposing  the  creative  principles  as  embodied 
in  the  Crow  and  the  Raven,  he  stigmatized 
Mackenzie  as  the  Wolf,  the  fighting  and  the 
destructive  principle.  Not  only  was  the  com 
bat  of  these  forces  spiritual,  but  men  fought, 
each  to  his  totem.  They  were  the  children 
of  Jelchs,  the  Kaven,  the  Promethean  fire- 
bringer ;  Mackenzie  was  the  child  of  the 
Wolf,  or,  in  other  words,  the  Devil.  For 
them  to  bring  a  truce  to  this  perpetual  war 
fare,  to  marry  their  daughters  to  the  arch 
enemy,  were  treason  and  blasphemy  of  the 
highest  order.  No  phrase  was  harsh,  nor  fig 
ure  vile,  enough  in  branding  Mackenzie  as 
a  sneaking  interloper  and  emissary  of  Satan. 
There  was  a  subdued,  savage  roar  in  the  deep 
chests  of  his  listeners  as  he  took  the  swing  of 
his  peroration. 

"  Ay,  my  brothers,  Jelchs  is  all-powerful ! 
Did  he  not  bring  heaven-born  fire  that  we 
might  be  warm  ?  Did  he  not  draw  the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars  from  their  holes  that  we 


38  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

might  see  ?  Did  lie  not  teach  us  that  we 
might  fight  the  Spirits  of  Famine  and  of 
Frost  ?  But  now  Jelchs  is  angry  with  his 
children,  and  they  are  grown  to  a  handful, 
and  he  will  not  help.  For  they  have  forgot 
ten  him,  and  done  evil  things,  and  trod  bad 
trails,  and  taken  his  enemies  into  their  lodges 
to  sit  by  their  fires.  And  the  Raven  is  sor 
rowful  at  the  wickedness  of  his  children  ;  but 
when  they  shall  rise  up  and  show  they  have 
come  back,  he  will  come  out  of  the  darkness 
to  aid  them.  0  brothers  !  the  Fire-Bringer 
has  whispered  messages  to  thy  Shaman ;  the 
same  shall  ye  hear.  Let  the  young  men  take 
the  young  women  to  their  lodges  ;  let  them 
fly  at  the  throat  of  the  Wolf  ;  let  them  be 
undying  in  their  enmity !  Then  shall  their 
women  become  fruitful,  and  they  shall  mul 
tiply  into  a  mighty  people  !  And  the  Raven 
shall  lead  great  tribes  of  their  fathers  and 
their  fathers'  fathers  from  out  of  the  North ; 
and  they  shall  beat  back  the  Wolves  till  they 
are  as  last  year's  camp-fires ;  and  they  shall 
again  come  to  rule  over  all  the  land  !  'T  is 
the  message  of  Jelchs,  the  Raven." 

This  foreshadowing  of  the  Messiah's  com 
ing  brought  a  hoarse  howl  from  the  Sticks 


THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF  39 

as  they  leaped  to  their  feet.  Mackenzie 
slipped  the  thumbs  of  his  mittens,  and  waited. 
There  was  a  clamor  for  the  Fox,  not  to  be 
stilled  till  one  of  the  young  men  stepped  for 
ward  to  speak. 

"  Brothers !  The  Shaman  has  spoken 
wisely.  The  Wolves  have  taken  our  women, 
and  our  men  are  childless.  We  are  grown 
to  a  handful.  The  Wolves  have  taken  our 
warm  furs,  and  given  for  them  evil  spirits 
which  dwell  in  bottles,  and  clothes  which 
come  not  from  the  beaver  or  the  lynx,  but 
are  made  from  the  grass.  And  they  are  not 
warm,  and  our  men  die  of  strange  sicknesses. 
I,  the  Fox,  have  taken  no  woman  to  wife ; 
and  why?  Twice  have  the  maidens  which 
pleased  me  gone  to  the  camps  of  the  Wolf. 
Even  now  have  I  laid  by  skins  of  the  beaver, 
of  the  moose,  of  the  cariboo,  that  I  might  win 
favor  in  the  eyes  of  Thling-Tinneh,  that  I 
might  marry  Zarinska,  his  daughter.  Even 
now  are  her  snowshoes  bound  to  her  feet, 
ready  to  break  trail  for  the  dogs  of  the  Wolf. 
Nor  do  I  speak  for  myself  alone.  As  I  have 
done,  so  has  the  Bear.  He,  too,  had  fain 
been  the  father  of  her  children,  and  many 
skins  has  he  cured  thereto.  I  speak  for  all 


40  THE  SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

the  young  men  who  know  not  wives.  The 
Wolves  are  ever  hungry.  Always  do  they 
take  the  choice  meat  at  the  killing.  To  the 
Havens  are  left  the  leavings. 

"  There  is  Gugkla ! "  he  cried,  brutally 
pointing  out  one  of  the  women,  who  was  a 
cripple.  "  Her  legs  are  bent  like  the  ribs 
of  a  birch  canoe.  She  cannot  gather  wood 
nor  carry  the  meat  of  the  hunters.  Did  the 
Wolves  choose  her  ?  " 

"  Ai !  ai !  "  vociferated  his  tribesmen. 

"  There  is  Moyri,  whose  eyes  are  crossed 
by  the  Evil  Spirit.  Even  the  babes  are  af 
frighted  when  they  gaze  upon  her,  and  it  is 
said  the  bald-face  gives  her  the  trail.  Was 
she  chosen? " 

Again  the  cruel  applause  rang  out. 

"And  there  sits  Pischet.  She  does  not 
hearken  to  my  words.  Never  has  she  heard 
the  cry  of  the  chit-chat,  the  voice  of  her  hus 
band,  the  babble  of  her  child.  She  lives  in 
the  White  Silence.  Cared  the  Wolves  aught 
for  her  ?  No  !  Theirs  is  the  choice  of  the 
kill ;  ours  is  the  leavings. 

"  Brothers,  it  shall  not  be  !  No  more  shall 
the  Wolves  slink  among  our  camp-fires.  The 
time  is  come." 


THE   SON  OF  THE   WOLF  41 

A  great  streamer  of  fire,  the  aurora  bore- 
alis,  purple,  green,  and  yellow,  shot  across 
the  zenith,  bridging  horizon  to  horizon. 
With  head  thrown  back  and  arms  extended, 
he  swayed  to  his  climax. 

"  Behold  !  The  spirits  of  our  fathers  have 
arisen  and  great  deeds  are  afoot  this  night ! " 

He  stepped  back,  and  another  young  man 
somewhat  diffidently  came  forward,  pushed 
on  by  his  comrades.  He  towered  a  full 
head  above  them,  his  broad  chest  defiantly 
bared  to  the  frost.  He  swung  tentatively 
from  one  foot  to  the  other.  Words  halted 
upon  his  tongue,  and  he  was  ill  at  ease.  His 
face  was  horrible  to  look  upon,  for  it  had 
at  one  time  been  half  torn  away  by  some  ter 
rific  blow.  At  last  he  struck  his  breast  with 
his  clenched  fist,  drawing  sound  as  from  a 
drum,  and  his  voice  rumbled  forth  as  the 
surf  from  an  ocean  cavern. 

"  I  am  the  Bear,  —  the  Silver-Tip  and  the 
Son  of  the  Silver-Tip  !  When  my  voice  was 
yet  as  a  girl's,  I  slew  the  lynx,  the  moose,  and 
the  cariboo  ;  when  it  whistled  like  the  wol 
verines  from  under  a  cache,  I  crossed  the 
Mountains  of  the  South  and  slew  three  of 
the  White  Rivers;  when  it  became  as  the 


42  .  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

roar  of  the  Chinook,  I  met  the  bald-faced 
grizzly,  but  gave  no  trail." 

At  this  he  paused,  his  hand  significantly 
sweeping  across  his  hideous  scars. 

"  I  am  not  as  the  Fox.  My  tongue  is 
frozen  like  the  river.  I  cannot  make  great 
talk.  My  words  are  few.  The  Fox  says 
great  deeds  are  afoot  this  night.  Good ! 
Talk  flows  from  his  tongue  like  the  freshets 
of  the  spring,  but  he  is  chary  of  deeds.  This 
night  shall  I  do  battle  with  the  Wolf.  I  shall 
slay  him,  and  Zarinska  shall  sit  by  my  fire. 
The  Bear  has  spoken." 

Though  pandemonium  raged  about  him, 
Scruff  Mackenzie  held  his  ground.  Aware 
how  useless  was  the  rifle  at  close  quarters,  he 
slipped  both  holsters  to  the  fore,  ready  for 
action,  and  drew  his  mittens  till  his  hands 
were  barely  shielded  by  the  elbow  gauntlets. 
He  knew  there  was  no  hope  in  attack  en 
masse,  but  true  to  his  boast,  was  prepared  to 
die  with  teeth  fast-locked.  But  the  Bear  re 
strained  his  comrades,  beating  back  the  more 
impetuous  with  his  terrible  fist.  As  the  tu 
mult  began  to  die  away,  Mackenzie  shot  a 
glance  in  the  direction  of  Zarinska.  It  was 
a  superb  picture.  She  was  leaning  forward 


THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF  43 

on  her  snowshoes,  lips  apart  and  nostrils 
quivering,  like  a  tigress  about  to  spring. 
Her  great  black  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her 
tribesmen,  in  fear  and  in  defiance.  So  ex 
treme  the  tension,  she  had  forgotten  to 
breathe.  With  one  hand  pressed  spasmod 
ically  against  her  breast  and  the  other  as 
tightly  gripped  about  the  dogwhip,  she  was 
as  turned  to  stone.  Even  as  he  looked,  relief 
came  to  her.  Her  muscles  loosened ;  with  a 
heavy  sigh  she  settled  back,  giving  him  a 
look  of  more  than  love. 

Thling-Tinneh  was  trying  to  speak,  but  his 
people  drowned  his  voice.  Then  Mackenzie 
strode  forward.  The  Fox  opened  mouth  to  a 
piercing  yell,  but  so  savagely  did  Mackenzie 
whirl  upon  him  that  he  shrank  back,  his 
larynx  all  a-gurgle  with  suppressed  sound. 
His  discomfiture  was  greeted  with  roars  of 
laughter,  and  served  to  soothe  his  fellows  to 
a  listening  mood. 

"  Brothers  !  The  White  Man,  whom  ye 
have  chosen  to  call  the  Wolf,  came  among 
you  with  fair  words.  He  was  not  like  the 
Innuit ;  he  spoke  not  lies.  He  came  as  a 
friend,  as  one  who  would  be  a  brother.  But 
your  men  have  had  their  say,  and  the  time 


44  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

for  soft  words  is  past.  First,  I  will  tell  you 
that  the  Shaman  has  an  evil  tongue  and  is  a 
false  prophet,  that  the  messages  he  spake  are 
not  those  of  the  Fire-Bringer.  His  ears  are 
locked  to  the  voice  of  the  Raven,  and  out  of 
his  own  head  he  weaves  cunning  fancies,  and 
he  has  made  fools  of  you.  He  has  no  power. 
When  the  dogs  were  killed  and  eaten,  and 
your  stomachs  were  heavy  with  un tanned 
hide  and  strips  of  moccasins ;  when  the  old 
men  died,  and  the  old  women  died,  and  the 
babes  at  the  dry  dugs  of  the  mothers  died ; 
when  the  land  was  dark,  and  ye  perished  as 
do  the  salmon  in  the  fall;  ay,  when  the 
famine  was  upon  you,  did  the  Shaman  bring 
reward  to  your  hunters?  did  the  Shaman  put 
meat  in  your  bellies  ?  Again  I  say,  the  Sha 
man  is  without  power.  Thus !  I  spit  upon  his 
face  ! " 

Though  taken  aback  by  the  sacrilege,  there 
was  no  uproar.  Some  of  the  women  were 
even  frightened,  but  among  the  men  there 
was  an  uplifting,  as  though  in  preparation  or 
anticipation  of  the  miracle.  All  eyes  were 
turned  upon  the  two  central  figures.  The 
priest  realized  the  crucial  moment,  felt  his 
power  tottering,  opened  his  mouth  in  denun- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF  45 

elation,  but  fled  backward  before  the  trucu 
lent  advance,  upraised  fist,  and  flashing  eyes 
of  Mackenzie.  He  sneered  and  resumed. 

"  Was  I  stricken  dead  ?  Did  the  lightning 
burn  me?  Did  the  stars  fall  from  the  sky  , 
and  crush  me  ?  Pish  !  I  have  done  with  the  i 
dog.  Now  will  I  tell  you  of  my  people,  who  j 
are  the  mightiest  of  all  the  peoples,  who  rule 
in  all  the  lands.  At  first  we  hunt  as  I  hunt, 
alone.  After  that  we  hunt  in  packs  ;  and  at 
last,  like  the  cariboo-run,  we  sweep  across  all 
the  land.  Those  whom  we  take  into  our 
lodges  live  ;  those  who  will  not  come  die. 
Zarinska  is  a  comely  maiden,  full  and  strong, 
fit  to  become  the  mother  of  Wolves.  Though 
I  die,  such  shall  she  become ;  for  my  brothers 
are  many,  and  they  will  follow  the  scent  of 
my  dogs.  Listen  to  the  Law  of  the  Wolf : 
Whoso  taketh  the  life  of  one  Wolf,  the  for 
feit  shall  ten  of  his  people  pay.  In  many 
lands  has  the  price  been  paid  ;  in  many  lands 
shall  it  yet  be  paid. 

"Now  will  I  deal  with  the  Fox  and  the 
Bear.  It  seems  they  have  cast  eyes  upon  the 
maiden.  So  ?  Behold,  I  have  bought  her  ! 
Thling-Tinneh  leans  upon  the  rifle ;  the  goods 
of  purchase  are  by  his  fire.  Yet  will  I  be 


46  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

fair  to  the  young  men.  To  the  Fox,  whose 
tongue  is  dry  with  many  words,  will  I  give  of 
tobacco  five  long  plugs.  Thus  will  his  mouth 
be  wetted  that  he  may  make  much  noise  in 
the  council.  But  to  the  Bear,  of  whom  I 
am  well  proud,  will  I  give  of  blankets  two ; 
of  flour,  twenty  cups ;  of  tobacco,  double  that 
of  the  Fox ;  and  if  he  fare  with  me  over  the 
Mountains  of  the  East,  then  will  I  give  him 
a  rifle,  mate  to  Thling-Tinneh's.  If  not? 
Good  !  The  Wolf  is  weary  of  speech.  Yet 
once  again  will  he  say  the  Law :  Whoso  tak- 
eth  the  life  of  one  Wolf,  the  forfeit  shall  ten 
of  his  people,  pay.'9 

Mackenzie  smiled  as  he  stepped  back  to 
his  old  position,  but  at  heart  he  was  full  of 
trouble.  The  night  was  yet  dark.  The  girl 
came  to  his  side,  and  he  listened  closely  as 
she  told  of  the  Bear's  battle-tricks  with  the 
knife. 

The  decision  was  for  war.  In  a  trice, 
scores  of  moccasins  were  widening  the  space 
of  beaten  snow  by  the  fire.  There  was  much 
chatter  about  the  seeming  defeat  of  the  Sha 
man  ;  some  averred  he  had  but  withheld  his 
power,  while  others  conned  past  events  and 
agreed  with  the  Wolf.  The  Bear  came  to 


THE  SON  OF  THE   WOLF  47 

the  centre  of  the  battle-ground,  a  long  naked 
hunting-knife  of  Russian  make  in  his  hand. 
The  Fox  called  attention  to  Mackenzie's  re 
volvers  ;  so  he  stripped  his  belt,  buckling  it 
about  Zarinska,  into  whose  hands  he  also 
intrusted  his  rifle.  She  shook  her  head  that 
she  could  not  shoot,  —  small  chance  had  a 
woman  to  handle  such  precious  things. 

"  Then,  if  danger  come  by  my  back,  cry 
aloud,  '  My  husband  ! '  No ;  thus,  '  My  hus 
band  ! ' " 

He  laughed  as  she  repeated  it,  pinched  her 
cheek,  and  reentered  the  circle.  Not  only  in 
reach  and  stature  had  the  Bear  the  advantage 
of  him,  but  his  blade  was  longer  by  a  good 
two  inches.  Scruff  Mackenzie  had  looked 
into  the  eyes  of  men  before,  and  he  knew  it 
was  a  man  who  stood  against  him ;  yet  he 
quickened  to  the  glint  of  light  on  the  steel, 
to  the  dominant  pulse  of  his  race. 

Time  and  again  he  was  forced  to  the  edge 
of  the  fire  or  the  deep  snow,  and  time  and 
again,  with  the  foot  tactics  of  the  pugilist, 
he  worked  back  to  the  centre.  Not  a  voice 
was  lifted  in  encouragement,  while  his  antag 
onist  was  heartened  with  applause,  sugges 
tions,  and  warnings.  But  his  teeth  only 


48  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

shut  the  tighter  as  the  knives  clashed  to 
gether,  and  he  thrust  or  eluded  with  a  cool 
ness  born  of  conscious  strength.  At  first  he 
felt  compassion  for  his  enemy;  but  this  fled 
before  the  primal  instinct  of  life,  which  in 
turn  gave  way  to  the  lust  of  slaughter.  The 
ten  thousand  years  of  culture  fell  from  him, 
and  he  was  a  cave-dweller,  doing  battle  for 
his  female. 

Twice  he  pricked  the  Bear,  getting  away 
unscathed  ;  but  the  third  time  caught,  and 
to  save  himself,  free  hands  closed  on  fighting 
hands,  and  they  came  together.  Then  did 
he  realize  the  tremendous  strength  of  his  op 
ponent.  His  muscles  were  knotted  in  pain 
ful  lumps,  and  cords  and  tendons  threatened 
to  snap  with  the  strain ;  yet  nearer  and 
nearer  came  the  Kussian  steel.  He  tried  to 
break  away,  but  only  weakened  himself.  The 
fur-clad  circle  closed  in,  certain  of  and  anx 
ious  to  see  the  final  stroke.  But  with  wres 
tler's  trick,  swinging  partly  to  the  side,  he 
struck  at  his  adversary  with  his  head.  Invol 
untarily  the  Bear  leaned  back,  disturbing  his 
centre  of  gravity.  Simultaneous  with  this, 
Mackenzie  tripped  properly  and  threw  his 
whole  weight  forward,  hurling  him  clear 


THE  SON  OF  THE   WOLF  49 

through  the  circle  into  the  deep  snow.  The 
Bear  floundered  out  and  came  back  full  tilt. 

"  0  my  husband !  "  Zarinska's  voice  rang 
out,  vibrant  with  danger. 

To  the  twang  of  a  bow-string,  Mackenzie 
swept  low  to  the  ground,  and  a  bone-barbed 
arrow  passed  over  him  into  the  breast  of  the 
Bear,  whose  momentum  carried  him  over  his 
crouching  foe.  The  next  instant  Mackenzie 
was  up  and  about.  The  Bear  lay  motionless, 
but  across  the  fire  was  the  Shaman,  drawing 
a  second  arrow. 

Mackenzie's  knife  leaped  short  in  the  air. 
He  caught  the  heavy  blade  by  the  point. 
There  was  a  flash  of  light  as  it  spanned  the 
fire.  Then  the  Shaman,  the  hilt  alone  ap 
pearing  without  his  throat,  swayed  a  mo 
ment  and  pitched  forward  into  the  glowing 
embers. 

Click  !  click  !  —  the  Fox  had  possessed  him 
self  of  Thling-Tinneh's  rifle  and  was  vainly 
trying  to  throw  a  shell  into  place.  But  he 
dropped  it  at  the  sound  of  Mackenzie's  laugh 
ter. 

"  So  the  Fox  has  not  learned  the  way  of 
the  plaything  ?  He  is  yet  a  woman.  Come ! 
Bring  it,  that  I  may  show  thee !  " 


50  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

The  Fox  hesitated. 

"  Come,  I  say  !  " 

He  slouched  forward  like  a  beaten  cur. 

"  Thus,  and  thus ;  so  the  thing  is  done." 
A  shell  flew  into  place  and  the  trigger  was  at 
cock  as  Mackenzie  brought  it  to  shoulder. 

o 

"  The  Fox  has  said  great  deeds  were  afoot 
this  night,  and  he  spoke  true.  There  have 
been  great  deeds,  yet  least  among  them  were 
those  of  the  Fox.  Is  he  still  intent  to  take 
Zarinska  to  his  lodge  ?  Is  he  minded  to  tread 
the  trail  already  broken  by  the  Shaman  and 
the  Bear?  No?  Good!'' 

Mackenzie  turned  contemptuously  and 
drew  his  knife  from  the  priest's  throat. 

"  Are  any  of  the  young  men  so  minded  ? 
If  so,  the  Wolf  will  take  them  by  two  and 
three  till  none  are  left.  No  ?  Good  !  Thling- 
Tinneh,  I  now  give  thee  this  rifle  a  second 
time.  If  in  the  days  to  come  thou  shouldst 
journey  to  the  Country  of  the  Yukon,  know 
thou  that  there  shall  always  be  a  place  and 
much  food  by  the  fire  of  the  Wolf.  The 
night  is  now  passing  into  the  day.  I  go,  but 
I  may  come  again.  And  for  the  last  time, 
remember  the  Law  of  the  Wolf  !  " 

He  was  supernatural  in  their  sight  as  he 


THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF  51 

rejoined  Zarinska.  She  took  her  place  at 
the  head  of  the  team,  and  the  dogs  swung 
into  motion.  A  few  moments  later  they  were 
swallowed  up  by  the  ghostly  forest.  Till  now 
Mackenzie  had  waited  ;  he  slipped  into  his 
snowshoes  to  follow. 

"Has  the  Wolf  forgotten  the  five  long 
plugs  ?  " 

Mackenzie  turned  upon  the  Fox  angrily ; 
then  the  humor  of  it  struck  him. 

"  I  will  give  thee  one  short  plug." 

"  As  the  Wolf  sees  fit,"  meekly  responded 
the  Fox,  stretching  out  his  hand. 


THE  MEN  OF  FORTY-MILE 

WHEN  Big  Jim  Belden  ventured  the  ap 
parently  innocuous  proposition  that  mush-ice 
was  "  rather  pecooliar,"  he  little  dreamed  of 
what  it  would  lead  to.  Neither  did  Lon  Mc- 
Fane,  when  he  affirmed  that  anchor-ice  was 
even  more  so ;  nor  did  Settles,  as  he  instantly 
disagreed,  declaring  the  very  existence  of 
such  a  form  to  be  a  bugaboo. 

"  An'  ye  'd  be  tellin'  me  this,"  cried  Lon, 
"  after  the  .years  ye  've  spint  in  the  land  ! 
An'  we  atin'  out  the  same  pot  this  many  's  the 
day !  " 

"  But  the  thing  's  agin  reason,"  insisted 
Settles.  "  Look  you,  water  's  warmer  than 


ice" 


"An'  little  the  difference,  once  ye  break 
through." 

"  Still  it 's  warmer,  because  it  ain't  froze. 
An'  you  say  it  freezes  on  the  bottom  ?  " 

"  Only  the  anchor-ice,  David,  only  the  an 
chor-ice.  An'  have  ye  niver  drifted  along, 
the  water  clear  as  glass,  whin  suddin,  belike 


THE   MEN   OF  FORTY-MILE  53 

a  cloud  over  the  sun,  the  mushy  ice  comes 
bubblin'  up  an'  up,  till  from  bank  to  bank 
an'  bind  to  bind  it 's  drapin'  the  river  like  a 
first  snowfall  ?  " 

"  Unh  hunh  !  more  'n  once  when  I  took 
a  doze  at  the  steering-oar.  But  it  allus  come 
out  the  nighest  side-channel,  an'  not  bubblin' 
up  an'  up." 

"But  with  niver  a  wink  at  the  helm ? " 

"  No  ;  nor  you.  It 's  agin  reason.  I  '11 
leave  it  to  any  man  !  " 

Bettles  appealed  to  the  circle  about  the 
stove,  but  the  fight  was  on  between  himself 
and  Lon  McFane. 

"  Reason  or  no  reason,  it 's  the  truth  I  'm 
tellin'  ye.  Last  fall,  a  year  gone,  't  was 
Sitka  Charley  and  meself  saw  the  sight,  drop- 
pin'  down  the  riffle  ye  '11  remember  below 
Fort  Reliance.  An'  regular  fall  weather  it 
was,  —  the  glint  o'  the  sun  on  the  golden 
larch  an'  the  quakin'  aspens ;  an'  the  glister 
of  light  on  ivery  ripple ;  an'  beyand,  the  win 
ter  an'  the  blue  haze  of  the  North  comin' 
down  hand  in  hand.  It 's  well  ye  know  the 
same,  with  a  fringe  to  the  river  an'  the  ice 
formin'  thick  in  the  eddies,  —  an'  a  snap 
an'  sparkle  to  the  air,  an'  ye  a-feelin'  it 


54  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

through  all  yer  blood,  a-takin'  new  lease  of 
life  with  ivery  suck  of  it.  'T  is  then,  me  hoy, 
the  world  grows  small  an'  the  wandther-lust 
lays  ye  by  the  heels. 

"  But  it 's  meself  as  wandthers.  As  I  was 
sayin',  we  a-paddlin',  with  niver  a  sign  of  ice, 
barrin'  that  by  the  eddies,  when  the  Injin 
lifts  his  paddle  an'  sings  out,  '  Lon  McFane  ! 
Look  ye  below  !  So  have  I  heard,  but  niver 
thought  to  see  ! '  As  ye  know,  Sitka  Charley, 
like  meself,  niver  drew  first  breath  in  the 
land  ;  so  the  sight  was  new.  Then  we  drifted, 
with  a  head  over  ayther  side,  peerin'  down 
through  the  sparkly  water.  For  the  world 
like  the  days  I  spint  with  the  pearlers, 
watchin'  the  coral  banks  a-growin'  the  same 
as  so  many  gardens  under  the  sea.  There  it 
was,  the  anchor-ice,  clingin'  an*  elusterin'  to 
ivery  rock,  after  the  manner  of  the  white 
coral. 

"  But  the  best  of  the  sight  was  to  come. 
Just  after  clearin'  the  tail  of  the  riffle,  the 
water  turns  quick  the  color  of  milk,  an'  the 
top  of  it  in  wee  circles,  as  when  the  graylin' 
rise  in  the  spring  or  there  's  a  splatter  of  wet 
from  the  sky.  'T  was  the  anchor-ice  comin' 
up.  To  the  right,  to  the  lift,  as  far  as  iver 


THE  MEN  OF  FORTY-MILE  55 

a  man  cud  see,  the  water  was  covered  with 
the  same.  An'  like  so  much  porridge  it  was, 
slickin'  along  the  bark  o£  the  canoe,  stickin' 
like  glue  to  the  paddles.  It 's  many 's  the 
time  I  shot  the  selfsame  riffle  before,  and  it 's 
many's  the  time  after,  but  niver  a  wink  of 
the  same  have  I  seen.  'T  was  the  sight  of  a 
lifetime." 

"  Do  tell !  "  dryly  commented  Bettles.  "DJ 
ye  think  I  'd  b'lieve  such  a  yarn  ?  I  'd  ruther 
say  the  glister  of  light  'd  gone  to  your  eyes, 
and  the  snap  of  the  air  to  your  tongue." 

"  JT  was  me  own  eyes  that  beheld  it,  an'  if 
Sitka  Charley  was  here,  he  'd  be  the  lad  to 
back  me." 

"  But  facts  is  facts,  an'  they  ain't  no  gittin' 
round  'em.  It  ain't  in  the  nature  of  things 
for  the  water  furtherest  away  from  the  air  to 
freeze  first." 

"  But  me  own  eyes  "  — 

"  Don't  git  het  up  over  it,"  admonished  Bet- 
ties,  as  the  quick  Celtic  anger  began  to  mount. 

"  Then  yer  not  after  belavin'  me  ?  " 

"  Sence  you  're  so  blamed  forehanded  about 
it,  no  ;  I  'd  b'lieve  nature  first,  and  facts." 

"  Is  it  the  lie  ye  'd  be  givin'  me  ?  "  threat 
ened  Lon.  "  Ye  'd  better  be  askin'  that  Siwash 


56  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

wife  of  yours.     I  '11  lave  it  to  her,  for  the 
truth  I  spake." 

Bettles  flared  up  in  sudden  wrath.  The 
Irishman  had  unwittingly  wounded  him ;  for 
his  wife  was  the  half-breed  daughter  of  a 
Russian  fur-trader,  married  to  him  in  the 
Greek  Mission  of  Nulato,  a  thousand  miles 
or  so  down  the  Yukon,  thus  being  of  much 
higher  caste  than  the  common  Siwash,  or  na 
tive,  wife.  It  was  a  mere  Northland  nuance, 
which  none  but  the  Northland  adventurer 
may  understand. 

"  I  reckon  you  kin  take  it  that  way,"  was 
his  deliberate  affirmation. 

The  next  instant  Lon  McFane  had  stretched 
him  on  the  floor,  the  circle  was  broken  up, 
and  half  a  dozen  men  had  stepped  between. 

Bettles  came  to  his  feet,  wiping  the  blood 
from  his  mouth.  "  It  hain't  new,  this  takin' 
and  payin'  of  blows,  and  don't  you  never 
think  but  that  this  will  be  squared." 

"  An'  niver  in  me  life  did  I  take  the  lie 
from  mortal  man,"  was  the  retort  courteous. 
"  An'  it 's  an  avil  day  I  '11  not  be  to  hand, 
waitin'  an'  willin'  to  help  ye  lift  yer  debts, 
barrin'  no  manner  of  way." 

"  Still  got  that  38-55  ?  " 


THE   MEN   OF   FORTY-MILE  57 

Lon  nodded. 

"  But  you  'd  better  git  a  more  likely  cali 
bre.  Mine  '11  rip  holes  through  you  the  size 
of  walnuts." 

"  Niver  fear  ;  it 's  me  own  slugs  smell  their 
way  with  soft  noses,  an'  they'll  spread  like 
flapjacks  against  the  coming  out  beyand. 
An'  when  '11  I  have  the  pleasure  of  waitin'  on 
ye  ?  The  water-hole 's  a  strikin'  locality." 

"  'T  ain't  bad.  Jest  be  there  in  an  hour, 
and  you  won't  set  long  on  my  coming." 

Both  men  mittened  and  left  the  Post,  their 
ears  closed  to  the  remonstrances  of  their 
comrades.  It  was  such  a  little  thing ;  yet 
with  such  men,  little  things,  nourished  by 
quick  tempers  and  stubborn  natures,  soon 
blossomed  into  big  things.  Besides,  the  art 
of  burning  to  bed-rock  still  lay  in  the  womb 
of  the  future,  and  the  men  of  Forty-Mile, 
shut  in  by  the  long  Arctic  winter,  grew  high- 
stomached  with  over-eating  and  enforced  idle 
ness,  and  became  as  irritable  as  do  the  bees 
in  the  fall  of  the  year  when  the  hives  are 
overstocked  with  honey. 

There  was  no  law  in  the  land.  The 
Mounted  Police  was  also  a  thing  of  the 
future.  Each  man  measured  an  offense  and 


58  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

meted  out  the  punishment  in  as  much  as  it 
affected  himself.  Rarely  had  combined  action 
been  necessary,  and  never  in  all  the  dreary 
history  of  the  camp  had  the  eighth  article  of 
the  Decalogue  been  violated. 

Big  Jim  Belden  called  an  impromptu  meet 
ing.  Scruff  Mackenzie  was  placed  as  tempo 
rary  chairman,  and  a  messenger  dispatched  to 
solicit  Father  Roubeau's  good  offices.  Their 
position  was  paradoxical,  and  they  knew  it. 
By  the  right  of  might  could  they  interfere 
to  prevent  the  duel ;  yet  such  action,  while 
in  direct  line  with  their  wishes,  went  counter 
to  their  opinions.  While  their  rough-hewn, 
obsolete  ethics  recognized  the  individual  pre 
rogative  of  wiping  out  blow  with  blow,  they 
could  not  bear  to  think  of  two  good  com 
rades,  such  as  Settles  and  McFane,  meeting 
in  deadly  battle.  Deeming  the  man  who 
would  not  fight  on  provocation  a  dastard, 
when  brought  to  the  test  it  seemed  wrong 
that  he  should  fight. 

But  a  scurry  of  moccasins  and  loud  cries, 
rounded  off  with  a  pistol-shot,  interrupted 
the  discussion.  Then  the  storm-doors  opened 
and  Malemute  Kid  entered,  a  smoking  Colt's 
in  his  hand  and  a  merry  light  in  his  eye. 


THE  MEN  OF  FORTY-MILE  59 

"  I  got  him."  He  replaced  the  empty  shell, 
and  added,  "  Your  dog,  Scruff." 

"  Yellow  Fang  ?  "  Mackenzie  asked. 

"  No ;  the  lop-eared  one." 

"  The  devil !  Nothing  the  matter  with 
him." 

"  Come  out  and  take  a  look." 

"That's  all  right,  after  all.  Guess  he's 
got  'em,  too.  Yellow  Fang  came  back  this 
morning  and  took  a  chunk  out  of  him,  and' 
came  near  to  making  a  widower  of  me. 
Made  a  rush  for  Zarinska,  but  she  whisked 
her  skirts  in  his  face  and  escaped  with  the 
loss  of  the  same  and  a  good  roll  in  the  snow. 
Then  he  took  to  the  woods  again.  Hope  he 
don't  come  back.  Lost  any  yourself  ?  " 

"  One  —  the  best  one  of  the  pack  —  Shoo- 
kum.  Started  amuck  this  morning,  but 
did  n't  get  very  far.  Ean  foul  of  Sitka 
Charley's  team,  and  they  scattered  him  all 
over  the  street.  And  now  two  of  them  are 
loose  and  raging  mad ;  so  you  see  he  got  his 
work  in.  The  dog  census  will  be  small  in  the 
spring  if  we  don't  do  something." 

"  And  the  man  census,  too." 

"  How  's  that  ?      Whose  in  trouble  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Bettles  and  Lon  McFane  had  an  ar- 


60  THE   SON   OF   THE  WOLF 

gument,  and  they  '11  be  down  by  the  water- 
hole  in  a  few  minutes  to  settle  it." 

The  incident  was  repeated  for  his  benefit, 
and  Malemute  Kid,  accustomed  to  an  obedi 
ence  which  his  fellow  men  never  failed  to  ren 
der,  took  charge  of  the  affair.  His  quickly 
formulated  plan  was  explained,  and  they  pro 
mised  to  follow  his  lead  implicitly. 

"  So  you  see,"  he  concluded,  "  we  do  not 
actually  take  away  their  privilege  of  fighting ; 
and  yet  I  don't  believe  they  '11  fight  when 
they  see  the  beauty  of  the  scheme.  Life 's  a 
game,  and  men  the  gamblers.  They  '11  stake 
their  whole  pile  on  the  one  chance  in  a  thou 
sand.  Take  away  that  one  chance,  and  — 
they  won't  play." 

He  turned  to  the  man  in  charge  of  the 
Post.  "Storekeeper,  weigh  out  three  fath 
oms  of  your  best  half -inch  manila." 

"  We  '11  establish  a  precedent  which  will 
last  the  men  of  Forty-Mile  to  the  end  of 
time,"  he  prophesied.  Then  he  coiled  the 
rope  about  his  arm  and  led  his  followers  out 
of  doors,  just  in  time  to  meet  the  principals. 

"What  danged  right 'd  he  to  fetch  my 
wife  in?"  thundered  Bettles  to  the  soothing 
overtures  of  a  friend.  "  'T  wa'n't  called 


THE  MEN   OF   FORTY-MILE  61 

for/'  he  concluded  decisively.  "  'T  wa'n't 
called  for,"  he  reiterated  again  and  again, 
pacing  up  and  down  and  waiting  for  Lon 
McFane. 

And  Lon  McFane  —  his  face  was  hot  and 
tongue  rapid  as  he  flaunted  insurrection  in 
the  face  of  the  Church.  "  Then,  father/'  he 
cried,  "  it 's  with  an  aisy  heart  I  '11  roll  in  me 
flamy  blankets,  the  broad  of  me  ^ack  on  a 
bed  of  coals.  Niver  shall  it  be  said  Lon  Mc 
Fane  took  a  lie  'twixt  the  teeth  without  iver 
liftin'  a  hand !  An'  I  '11  not  ask  a  blessin'. 
The  years  have  been  wild,  but  it 's  the  heart 
was  in  the  right  place." 

"  But  it 's  not  the  heart,  Lon,"  interposed 
Father  Koubeau ;  "  it 's  pride  that  bids  you 
forth  to  slay  your  fellow  man." 

"Yer  Frinch,"  Lon  replied.  And  then, 
turning  to  leave  him,  "  An'  will  ye  say  a  mass 
if  the  luck  is  against  me  ?  " 

But  the  priest  smiled,  thrust  his  moccasined 
feet  to  the  fore,  and  went  out  upon  the  white 
breast  of  the  silent  river.  A  packed  trail, 
the  width  of  a  sixteen-inch  sled,  led  out  to  the 
water-hole.  On  either  side  lay  the  deep,  soft 
snow.  The  men  trod  in  single  file,  without 
conversation ;  and  the  black-stoled  priest  in 


62  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

their  midst  gave  to  the  function  the  solemn 
aspect  of  a  funeral.  It  was  a  warm  winter's 
day  for  Forty-Mile,  —  a  day  in  which  the  sky, 
filled  with  heaviness,  drew  closer  to  the  earth, 
and  the  mercury  sought  the  unwonted  level 
of  twenty  below.  But  there  was  no  cheer  in 
the  warmth.  There  was  little  air  in  the  upper 
strata,  and  the  clouds  hung  motionless,  giving 
sullen  promise  of  an  early  snowfall.  And  the 
earth,  unresponsive,  made  no  preparation, 
content  in  its  hibernation. 

When  the  water-hole  was  reached,  Bettles, 
having  evidently  reviewed  the  quarrel  during 
the  silent  walk,  burst  out  in  a  final  "  'T  wa'n't 
called  for,"  while  Lon  McFane  kept  grim 
silence.  Indignation  so  choked  him  that  he 
could  not  speak. 

Yet  deep  down,  whenever  their  own  wrongs 
were  not  uppermost,  both  men  wondered  at 
their  comrades.  They  had  expected  opposi 
tion,  and  this  tacit  acquiescence  hurt  them. 
It  seemed  more  was  due  them  from  the  men 
they  had  been  so  close  with,  and  they  felt  a 
vague  sense  of  wrong,  rebelling  at  the  thought 
of  so  many  of  their  brothers  coming  out,  as 
on  a  gala  occasion,  without  one  word  of  pro 
test,  to  see  them  shoot  each  other  down.  It 


THE  MEN  OF  FORTY-MILE  63 

appeared  their  worth  had  diminished  in  the 
eyes  of  the  community.  The  proceedings 
puzzled  them. 

"Back  to  back,  David.  An'  will  it  be 
fifty  paces  to  the  man,  or  double  the  quan 
tity?  " 

"  Fifty/'  was  the  sanguinary  reply,  grunted 
out,  yet  sharply  cut. 

But  the  new  manila,  not  prominently  dis 
played  but  casually  coiled  about  Malemute 
Kid's  arm,  caught  the  quick  eye  of  the  Irish 
man  and  thrilled  him  with  a  suspicious  fear. 

"  An'  what  are  ye  doin'  with  the  rope  ?  " 

"  Hurry  up  !  "  Malemute  Kid  glanced  at 
his  watch.  "  I  've  a  batch  of  bread  in  the 
cabin,  and  I  don't  want  it  to  fall.  Besides, 
my  feet  are  getting  cold." 

The  rest  of  the  men  manifested  their  im 
patience  in  various  suggestive  ways. 

"  But  the  rope,  Kid  ?  It 's  bran'  new,  an' 
sure  yer  bread  's  not  that  heavy  it  needs 
raisin'  with  the  like  of  that  ?  " 

Settles  by  this  time  had  faced  around. 
Father  Roubeau,  the  humor  of  the  situation 
just  dawning  on  him,  hid  a  smile  behind  his 
mittened  hand. 

"  No,  Lon  ;  this  rope  was  made  for  a  man." 


64  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

Malemute  Kid  could  be  very  impressive  on 
occasion. 

"  What  man  ?  "  Bettles  was  becoming 
aware  of  a  personal  interest. 

"  The  other  man." 

"  An'  which  is  the  one  ye  'd  mane  by  that  ?  " 

"  Listen,  Lon,  —  and  you,  too,  Bettles  ! 
We  've  been  talking  this  little  trouble  of  yours 
over,  and  we  've  come  to  one  conclusion.  We 
know  we  have  no  right  to  stop  your  fight- 
ing"- 

"  True  for  ye,  me  lad !  " 

"  And  we  're  not  going  to.  But  this  much 
we  can  do,  and  shall  do,  —  make  this  the  only 
duel  in  the  history  of  Forty-Mile,  set  an  ex 
ample  for  every  che-cha-qua  that  comes  up 
or  down  the  Yukon.  The  man  who  escapes 
killing  shall  be  hanged  to  the  nearest  tree. 
Now,  go  ahead !  " 

Lon  smiled  dubiously,  then  his  face  lighted 
up.  "  Pace  her  off,  David,  —  fifty  paces, 
wheel,  an*  niver  a  cease  firin'  till  a  lad  's  down 
for  good.  'T  is  their  hearts  '11  niver  let  them 
do  the  deed,  an'  it  's  well  ye  should  know  it 
for  a  true  Yankee  bluff." 

He  started  off  with  a  pleased  grin  on  his 
face,  but  Malemute  Kid  halted  him. 


THE   MEN   OF  FORTY-MILE  65 

"  Lon  !  It 's  a  long  while  since  you  first 
knew  me  ?  " 

"  Many  's  the  day." 

"  And  you,  Bettles  ?  " 

"  Five  year  next  June  high  water." 

"  And  have  you  once,  in  all  that  time, 
known  me  to  break  my  word  ?  Or  heard  of 
me  breaking  it  ?  " 

Both  men  shook  their  heads,  striving  to 
fathom  what  lay  beyond. 

"  Well,  then,  what  do  you  think  of  a  pro 
mise  made  by  me  ?  " 

"  As  good  as  your  bond,"  from  Bettles. 

"  The  thing  to  safely  sling  yer  hopes  of 
heaven  by,"  promptly  indorsed  Lon  McFane. 

"  Listen !  I,  Malemute  Kid,  give  you  my 
word — and  you  know  what  that  means  — 
that  the  man  who  is  not  shot  stretches  rope 
within  ten  minutes  after  the  shooting."  He 
stepped  back  as  Pilate  might  have  done  after 
washing  his  hands. 

A  pause  and  a  silence  came  over  the  men 
of  Forty-Mile.  The  sky  drew  still  closer, 
sending  down  a  crystal  flight  of  frost, — 
little  geometric  designs,  perfect,  evanescent  as 
a  breath,  yet  destined  to  exist  till  the  return 
ing  sun  had  covered  half  its  northern  journey. 


66  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

Both  men  had  led  forlorn  hopes  in  their  time, 
—  led,  with  a  curse  or  a  jest  on  their  tongues, 
and  in  their  souls  an  unswerving  faith  in  the 

o 

God  of  Chance.  But  that  merciful  deity  had 
been  shut  out  from  the  present  deal.  They 
studied  the  face  of  Malemute  Kid,  but  they 
studied  as  one  might  the  Sphinx.  As  the 
quiet  minutes  passed,  a  feeling  that  speech 
was  incumbent  on  them  began  to  grow.  At 
last  the  howl  of  a  wolf-dog  cracked  the  si 
lence  from  the  direction  of  Forty-Mile.  The 
weird  sound  swelled  with  all  the  pathos  of  a 
breaking  heart,  then  died  away  in  a  long- 
drawn  sob. 

"  Well  I  be  danged  !  "  Bettles  turned  up 
the  collar  of  his  mackinaw  jacket  and  stared 
about  him  helplessly. 

"  It 's  a  gloryus  game  yer  runnin',  Kid," 
cried  Lon  McFane.  "  All  the  percentage  to 
the  house  an'  niver  a  bit  to  the  man  that 's 
buckin'.  The  Devil  himself  'd  niver  tackle 
such  a  cinch  —  and  damned  if  I  do." 

There  were  chuckles,  throttled  in  gurgling 
throats,  and  winks  brushed  away  with  the 
frost  which  rimed  the  eyelashes,  as  the  men 
climbed  the  ice-notched  bank  and  started 
across  the  street  to  the  Post.  But  the  long 


THE  MEN  OF  FORTY-MILE  67 

howl  had  drawn  nearer,  invested  with  a  new 
note  of  menace.  A  woman  screamed  round 
the  corner.  There  was  a  cry  of,  "  Here  he 
comes !  "  Then  an  Indian  boy,  at  the  head 
of  half  a  dozen  frightened  dogs,  racing  with 
death,  dashed  into  the  crowd.  And  behind 
came  Yellow  Fang,  a  bristle  of  hair  and  a 
flash  of  gray.  Everybody  but  the  Yankee 
fled.  The  Indian  boy  had  tripped  and  fallen. 
Bettles  stopped  long  enough  to  grip  him  by 
the  slack  of  his  furs,  then  headed  for  a  pile 
of  cordwood  already  occupied  by  a  number  of 
his  comrades.  Yellow  Fang,  doubling  after 
one  of  the  dogs,  came  leaping  back.  The 
fleeing  animal,  free  of  the  rabies  but  crazed 
with  fright,  whipped  Bettles  off  his  feet  and 
flashed  on  up  the  street.  Malemute  Kid  took 
a  flying  shot  at  Yellow  Fang.  The  mad 
dog  whirled  a  half  airspring,  came  down  on 
his  back,  then,  with  a  single  leap,  covered 
half  the  distance  between  himself  and  Bet- 
ties. 

But  the  fatal  spring  was  intercepted.  Lon 
McFane  leaped  from  the  woodpile,  counter 
ing  him  in  midair.  Over  they  rolled,  Lon 
holding  him  by  the  throat  at  arm's  length, 
blinking  under  the  fetid  slaver  which  sprayed 


68  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

his  face.  Then  Settles,  revolver  in  hand  and 
coolly  waiting  a  chance,  settled  the  combat. 

66  'T  was  a  square  game,  Kid,"  Lon  re 
marked,  rising  to  his  feet  and  shaking  the 
snow  from  out  his  sleeves  ;  "  with  a  fair  per 
centage  to  meself  that  bucked  it." 

That  night,  while  Lon  McFane  sought  the 
forgiving  arms  of  the  Church  in  the  direction 
of  Father  Roubeau's  cabin,  Malemute  Kid  and 
Scruff  Mackenzie  talked  long  to  little  pur 
pose. 

"But  would  you,"  persisted  Mackenzie, 
"  supposing  they  had  fought  ?  " 

"  Have  I  ever  broken  my  word  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  that  is  n't  the  point.  Answer 
the  question.  Would  you  ?  " 

Malemute  Kid  straightened  up.  "  Scruff, 
I  've  been  asking  myself  that  question  ever 
since,  and  "  — 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  as  yet,  I  have  n't  found  the  an 


swer." 


IN  A  FAR  COUNTRY 

WHEN  a  man  journeys  into  a  far  country, 
he  must  be  prepared  to  forget  many  of  the 
things  he  has  learned,  and  to  acquire  such 
customs  as  are  inherent  with  existence  in  the 
new  land ;  he  must  abandon  the  old  ideals 
and  the  old  gods,  and  oftentimes  he  must 
reverse  the  very  codes  by  which  his  conduct 
has  hitherto  been  shaped.  To  those  who 
have  the  protean  faculty  of  adaptability,  the 
novelty  of  such  change  may  even  be  a  source 
of  pleasure ;  but  to  those  who  happen  to  be 
hardened  to  the  ruts  in  which  they  were  cre 
ated,  the  pressure  of  the  altered  environment 
is  unbearable,  and  they  chafe  in  body  and  in 
spirit  under  the  new  restrictions  which  they 
do  not  understand.  This  chafing  is  bound  to 
act  and  react,  producing  divers  evils  and  lead 
ing  to  various  misfortunes.  It  were  better 
for  the  man  who  cannot  fit  himself  to  the 
new  groove  to  return  to  his  own  country ;  if 
he  delay  too  long,  he  will  surely  die. 

The  man  who  turns  his  back   upon   the 


70  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

comforts  of  an  elder  civilization,  to  face  the 
savage  youth,  the  primordial  simplicity  of  the 
North,  may  estimate  success  at  an  inverse 
ratio  to  the  quantity  and  quality  of  his  hope 
lessly  fixed  habits.  He  will  soon  discover,  if 
he  be  a  fit  candidate,  that  the  material  habits 
are  the  less  important.  The  exchange  of  such 
things  as  a  dainty  menu  for  rough  fare,  of 
the  stiff  leather  shoe  for  the  soft,  shapeless 
moccasin,  of  the  feather  bed  for  a  couch  in 
the  snow,  is  after  all  a  very  easy  matter.  But 
his  pinch  will  come  in  learning  properly  to 
shape  his  mind's  attitude  toward  all  things, 
and  especially  toward  his  fellow  man.  For  the 
courtesies  of  ordinary  life,  he  must  substi 
tute  unselfishness,  forbearance,  and  tolerance. 
Thus,  and  thus  only,  can  he  gain  that  pearl 
of  great  price,  —  true  comradeship.  He  must 
not  say  "  Thank  you  ;  "  he  must  mean  it  with 
out  opening  his  mouth,  and  prove  it  by  re 
sponding  in  kind.  In  short,  he  must  substi 
tute  the  deed  for  the  word,  the  spirit  for  the 
letter. 

When  the  world  rang  with  the  tale  of 
Arctic  gold,  and  the  lure  of  the  North 
gripped  the  heartstrings  of  men,  Carter 
Weatherbee  threw  up  his  snug  clerkship, 


IN  A  FAR  COUNTRY  71 

turned  the  half  of  his  savings  over  to  his 
wife,  and  with  the  remainder  bought  an  out 
fit.  There  was  no  romance  in  his  nature,  — 
the  bondage  of  commerce  had  crushed  all 
that;  he  was  simply  tired  of  the  ceaseless 
grind,  and  wished  to  risk  great  hazards  in 
view  of  corresponding  returns.  Like  many 
another  fool,  disdaining  the  old  trails  used 
by  the  Northland  pioneers  for  a  score  of 
years,  he  hurried  to  Edmonton  in  the  spring 
of  the  year  ;  and  there,  unluckily  for  his 
soul's  welfare,  he  allied  himself  with  a  party 
of  men. 

There  was  nothing  unusual  about  this 
party,  except  its  plans.  Even  its  goal,  like 
that  of  all  other  parties,  was  the  Klondike. 
But  the  route  it  had  mapped  out  to  attain 
that  goal  took  away  the  breath  of  the  hardi 
est  native,  born  and  bred  to  the  vicissitudes 
of  the  Northwest.  Even  Jacques  Baptiste, 
born  of  a  Chippewa  woman  and  a  renegade 
voyageur  (having  raised  his  first  whimpers 
in  a  deerskin  lodge  north  of  the  sixty-fifth 
parallel,  and  had  the  same  hushed  by  blissful 
sucks  of  raw  tallow),  was  surprised.  Though 
he  sold  his  services  to  them  and  agreed  to 
travel  even  to  the  never-opening  ice,  he  shook 


72  THE   SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

his  head  ominously  whenever  his  advice  was 
asked. 

Percy  Cuthfert's  evil  star  must  have  been 
in  the  ascendant,  for  he,  too,  joined  this  com 
pany  of  argonauts.  He  was  an  ordinary  man, 
with  a  bank  account  as  deep  as  his  culture, 
which  is  saying  a  good  deal.  He  had  no  rea 
son  to  embark  on  such  a  venture,  —  no  reason 
in  the  world,  save  that  he  suffered  from  an 
abnormal  development  of  sentimentality.  He 
mistook  this  for  the  true  spirit  of  romance 
and  adventure.  Many  another  man  has  done 
the  like,  and  made  as  fatal  a  mistake. 

The  first  break-up  of  spring  found  the 
party  following  the  ice-run  of  Elk  Kiver.  It 
was  an  imposing  fleet,  for  the  outfit  was  large, 
and  they  were  accompanied  by  a  disreputable 
contingent  of  half-breed  voyarjeurs  with  their 
women  and  children.  Day  in  and  day  out, 
they  labored  with  the  bateaux  and  canoes, 
fought  mosquitoes  and  other  kindred  pests, 
or  sweated  and  swore  at  the  portages.  Severe 
toil  like  this  lays  a  man  naked  to  the  very 
roots  of  his  soul,  and  ere  Lake  Athabasca  was 
lost  in  the  south,  each  member  of  the  party 
had  hoisted  his  true  colors. 

The  two  shirks  and  chronic  grumblers  were 


IN  A  FAR  COUNTRY  73 

Carter  Weatherbee  and  Percy  Cuthfert.  The 
whole  party  complained  less  of  its  aches  and 
pains  than  did  either  of  them.  Not  once  did 
they  volunteer  for  the  thousand  and  one  petty 
duties  of  the  camp.  A  bucket  of  water  to 
be  brought,  an  extra  armful  of  wood  to  be 
chopped,  the  dishes  to  be  washed  and  wiped, 
a  search  to  be  made  through  the  outfit  for 
some  suddenly  indispensable  article,  —  and 
these  two  effete  scions  of  civilization  discovered 
sprains  or  blisters  requiring  instant  attention. 
They  were  the  first  to  turn  in  at  night,  with  a 
score  of  tasks  yet  undone ;  the  last  to  turn 
out  in  the  morning,  when  the  start  should  be 
in  readiness  before  the  breakfast  was  begun. 
They  were  the  first  to  fall  to  at  meal-time,  the 
last  to  have  a  hand  in  the  cooking ;  the  first 
to  dive  for  a  slim  delicacy,  the  last  to  discover 
they  had  added  to  their  own  another  man's 
share.  If  they  toiled  at  the  oars,  they  slyly 
cut  the  water  at  each  stroke  and  allowed  the 
boat's  momentum  to  float  up  the  blade.  They 
thought  nobody  noticed ;  but  their  comrades 
swore  under  their  breaths  and  grew  to  hate 
them,  while  Jacques  Baptiste  sneered  openly 
and  damned  them  from  morning  till  night. 
But  Jacques  Baptiste  was  no  gentleman. 


74  THE   SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

At  the  Great  Slave,  Hudson  Bay  dogs  were 
purchased,  and  the  fleet  sank  to  the  guards 
with  its  added  burden  of  dried  fish  and  pem- 
mican.  Then  canoe  and  bateau  answered  to 
the  swift  current  of  the  Mackenzie,  and  they 
plunged  into  the  Great  Barren  Ground.  Every 
likely-looking  "  feeder "  was  prospected,  but 
the  elusive  "  pay-dirt "  danced  ever  to  the 
north.  At  the  Great  Bear,  overcome  by  the 
common  dread  of  the  Unknown  Lands,  their 
voyacjeurs  began  to  desert,  and  Fort  of  Good 
Hope  saw  the  last  and  bravest  bending  to  the 
tow-lines  as  they  bucked  the  current  down 
which  they  had  so  treacherously  glided. 
Jacques  Baptiste  alone  remained.  Had  he 
not  sworn  to  travel  even  to  the  never-opening 
ice? 

The  lying  charts,  compiled  in  main  from 
hearsay,  were  now  constantly  consulted.  And 
they  felt  the  need  of  hurry,  for  the  sun  had 
already  passed  its  northern  solstice  and  was 
leading  the  winter  south  again.  Skirting  the 
shores  of  the  bay,  where  the  Mackenzie  dis 
embogues  into  the  Arctic  Ocean,  they  entered 
the  mouth  of  the  Little  Peel  River.  Then  be 
gan  the  arduous  up-stream  toil,  and  the  two 
Incapables  fared  worse  than  ever.  Tow-line 


IN  A   FAR   COUNTRY  75 

and  pole,  paddle  and  tump-line,  rapids  and 
portages,  —  such  tortures  served  to  give  the 
one  a  deep  disgust  for  great  hazards,  and 
printed  for  the  other  a  fiery  text  on  the  true 
romance  of  adventure.  One  day  they  waxed 
mutinous,  and  being  vilely  cursed  by  Jacques 
Baptiste,  turned,  as  worms  sometimes  will. 
But  the  half-breed  thrashed  the  twain,  and 
sent  them,  bruised  and  bleeding,  about  their 
work.  It  was  the  first  time  either  had  been 
man-handled. 

Abandoning  their  river  craft  at  the  head 
waters  of  the  Little  Peel,  they  consumed  the 
rest  of  the  summer  in  the  great  portage  over 
the  Mackenzie  watershed  to  the  West  Rat. 
This  little  stream  fed  the  Porcupine,  which  in 
turn  joined  the  Yukon  where  that  mighty 
highway  of  the  North  countermarches  on  the 
Arctic  Circle.  But  they  had  lost  in  the  race 
with  winter,  and  one  day  they  tied  their  rafts 
to  the  thick  eddy-ice  and  hurried  their  goods 
ashore.  That  night  the  river  jammed  and 
broke  several  times  ;  the  following  morning 
it  had  fallen  asleep  for  good. 

"  We  can't  be  more  'n  four  hundred  miles 
from  the  Yukon,"  concluded  Sloper,  multiply- 


76  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

ing  his  thumb  nails  by  the  scale  of  the  map. 
The  council,  in  which  the  two  Incapables  had 
whined  to  excellent  disadvantage,  was  drawing 
to  a  close. 

"  Hudson  Bay  Post,  long  time  ago.  No 
use  um  now."  Jacques  Baptiste's  father  had 
made  the  trip  for  the  Fur  Company  in  the  old 
days,  incidentally  marking  the  trail  with  a 
couple  of  frozen  toes. 

"  Suiferin'  cracky  !  "  cried  another  of  the 
party.  "  No  whites  ?  " 

"  Nary  white,"  Sloper  sententiously  af 
firmed  ;  "  but  it 's  only  five  hundred  more  up 
the  Yukon  to  Dawson.  Call  it  a  rough  thou 
sand  from  here." 

Weatherbee  andCuthfert  groaned  in  chorus. 

"  How  long  '11  that  take,  Baptiste  ?  " 

The  half-breed  figured  for  a  moment. 
"  Workum  like  hell,  no  man  play  out,  ten  — 
twenty  —  forty  —  fifty  days.  Um  babies 
come  "  (designating  the  Incapables),  "  no  can 
tell.  Mebbe  when  hell  freeze  over ;  mebbe 
not  then." 

The  manufacture  of  snowshoes  and  mocca 
sins  ceased.  Somebody  called  the  name  of 
an  absent  member,  who  came  out  of  an  ancient 
cabin  at  the  edge  of  the  camp-fire  and  joined 


IN  A   FAR  COUNTRY  77 

them.  The  cabin  was  one  of  the  many  mys 
teries  which  lurk  in  the  vast  recesses  of  the 
North.  Built  when  and  by  whom,  no  man 
could  tell.  Two  graves  in  the  open,  piled 
high  with  stones,  perhaps  contained  the  secret 
of  those  early  wanderers.  But  whose  hand 
had  piled  the  stones? 

The  moment  had  come.  Jacques  Baptiste 
paused  in  the  fitting  of  a  harness  and  pinned 
the  struggling  dog  in  the  snow.  The  cook 
made  mute  protest  for  delay,  threw  a  handful 
of  bacon  into  a  noisy  pot  of  beans,  then  came 
to  attention.  Sloper  rose  to  his  feet.  His 
body  was  a  ludicrous  contrast  to  the  healthy 
physiques  of  the  Incapables.  Yellow  and 
weak,  fleeing  from  a  South  American  fever- 
hole,  he  had  not  broken  his  flight  across  the 
zones,  and  was  still  able  to  toil  with  men. 
His  weight  was  probably  ninety  pounds,  with 
the  heavy  hunting-knife  thrown  in,  and  his 
grizzled  hair  told  of  a  prime  which  had  ceased 
to  be.  The  fresh  young  muscles,  of  either 
Weatherbee  or  Cuthfert  were  equal  to  ten 
times  the  endeavor  of  his  ;  yet  he  could  walk 
them  into  the  earth  in  a  day's  journey.  And 
all  this  day  he  had  whipped  his  stronger  com 
rades  into  venturing  a  thousand  miles  of  the 


78  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

stiffest  hardship  man  can  conceive.  He  was 
the  incarnation  of  the  unrest  of  his  race,  and 
the  old  Teutonic  stubbornness,  dashed  with 
the  quick  grasp  and  action  of  the  Yankee, 
held  the  flesh  in  the  bondage  of  the  spirit. 

"  All  those  in  favor  of  going  on  with  the 
dogs  as  soon  as  the  ice  sets,  say  ay." 

"  Ay  !  "  rang  out  eight  voices, —  voices  de 
stined  to  string  a  trail  of  oaths  along  many  a 
hundred  miles  of  pain. 

"Contrary  minded?" 

"  No  !  "  For  the  first  time  the  Incapables 
were  united  without  some  compromise  of  per 
sonal  interests. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  " 
Weatherbee  added  belligerently. 

"  Majority  rule  !  Majority  rule  !  "  clamored 
the  rest  of  the  party. 

"I  know  the  expedition  is  liable  to  fall 
through  if  you  don't  come,"  Sloper  replied 
sweetly  ;  "  but  I  guess,  if  we  try  real  hard, 
we  can  manage  to  do  without  you.  What  do 
you  say,  boys  ?  " 

The  sentiment  was  cheered  to  the  echo. 

"  But  I  say,  you  know,"  Cuthfert  ventured 
apprehensively  ;  "  what 's  a  chap  like  me  to 
do?" 


IN   A   FAR   COUNTRY  79 

"  Ain't  you  coming  with  us  ?  " 

"No-o." 

"  Then  do  as  you  damn  well  please.  We 
won't  have  nothing  to  say." 

"  Kind  o'  calkilate  yuh  might  settle  it  with 
that  canoodlin'  pardner  of  yourn,"  suggested 
a  heavy-going  Westerner  from  the  Dakotas, 
at  the  same  time  pointing  out  Weatherbee. 
"  He  '11  be  shore  to  ask  yuh  what  yur  a-goin' 
to  do  when  it  comes  to  cookin'  an'  gatherin' 
the  wood." 

"  Then  we  '11  consider  it  all  arranged,"  con 
cluded  Sloper.  "  We  '11  pull  out  to-morrow, 
if  we  camp  within  five  miles,  —  just  to  get 
everything  in  running  order  and  remember  if 
we  've  forgotten  anything." 

The  sleds  groaned  by  on  their  steel-shod 
runners,  and  the  dogs  strained  low  in  the 
harnesses  in  which  they  were  born  to  die. 
Jacques  Baptiste  paused  by  the  side  of  Sloper 
to  get  a  last  glimpse  of  the  cabin.  The  smoke 
curled  up  pathetically  from  the  Yukon  stove 
pipe.  The  two  Incapables  were  watching 
them  from  the  doorway. 

Sloper  laid  his  hand  on  the  other's  shoul 
der. 


80  THE   SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

"Jacques  Baptiste,  did  you  ever  hear  of 
the  Kilkenny  cats?  " 

The  half-breed  shook  his  head. 

"  Well,  my  friend  and  good  comrade,  the 
Kilkenny  cats  fought  till  neither  hide,  nor 
hair,  nor  yowl,  was  left.  You  understand? 
—  till  nothing  was  left.  Very  good.  Now, 
these  two  men  don't  like  work.  They  won't 
work.  We  know  that.  They  '11  be  all  alone 
in  that  cabin  all  winter,  —  a  mighty  long, 
dark  winter.  Kilkenny  cats,  —  well  ?  " 

The  Frenchman  in  Baptiste  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  but  the  Indian  in  him  was  silent. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  an  eloquent  shrug,  preg 
nant  with  prophecy. 

Things  prospered  in  the  little  cabin  at  first. 
The  rough  badinage  of  their  comrades  had 
made  Weatherbee  and  Cuthfert  conscious  of 
the  mutual  responsibility  which  had  devolved 
upon  them ;  besides,  there  was  not  so  much 
work  after  all  for  two  healthy  men.  And  the 
removal  of  the  cruel  whip-hand,  or  in  other 
words  the  bulldozing  half-breed,  had  brought 
with  it  a  joyous  reaction.  At  first,  each  strove 
to  outdo  the  other,  and  they  performed  petty 
tasks  with  an  unction  which  would  have 


IN  A   FAR  COUNTRY  81 

opened  the  eyes  of  their  comrades  who  were 
now  wearing  out  bodies  and  souls  on  the 
Long  Trail. 

All  care  was  banished.  The  forest,  which 
shouldered  in  upon  them  from  three  sides, 
was  an  inexhaustible  woodyard.  A  few 
yards  from  their  door  slept  the  Porcupine, 
and  a  hole  through  its  winter  robe  formed  a 
bubbling  spring  of  water,  crystal  clear  and 
painfully  cold.  But  they  soon  grew  to  find 
fault  with  even  that.  The  hole  would  persist 
in  freezing  up,  and  thus  gave  them  many  a 
miserable  hour  of  ice-chopping.  The  un 
known  builders  of  the  cabin  had  extended 
the  side-logs  so  as  to  support  a  cache  at  the 
rear.  In  this  was  stored  the  bulk  of  the  party's 
provisions.  Food  there  was,  without  stint,  for 
three  times  the  men  who  were  fated  to  live 
upon  it.  But  the  most  of  it  was  of  the  kind 
which  built  up  brawn  and  sinew,  but  did  not 
tickle  the  palate.  True,  there  was  sugar  in 
plenty  for  two  ordinary  men  ;  but  these  two 
were  little  else  than  children.  They  early 
discovered  the  virtues  of  hot  water  judi 
ciously  saturated  with  sugar,  and  they  prodi 
gally  swam  their  flapjacks  and  soaked  their 
crusts  in  the  rich,  white  syrup.  Then  coffee 


82  THE   SON   OF   THE  WOLF 

and  tea,  and  especially  the  dried  fruits,  made 
disastrous  inroads  upon  it.  The  first  words 
they  had  were  over  the  sugar  question.  And 
it  is  a  really  serious  thing  when  two  men, 
wholly  dependent  upon  each  other  for  com 
pany,  begin  to  quarrel. 

Weatherbee  loved  to  discourse  blatantly 
on  politics,  while  Cuthfert,  who  had  been 
prone  to  clip  his  coupons  and  let  the  com 
monwealth  jog  on  as  best  it  might,  either 
ignored  the  subject  or  delivered  himself  of 
startling  epigrams.  But  the  clerk  was  too 
obtuse  to  appreciate  the  clever  shaping  of 
thought,  and  this  waste  of  ammunition  irri 
tated  Cuthfert.  He  had  been  used  to  blind 
ing  people  by  his  brilliancy,  and  it  worked 
him  quite  a  hardship,  this  loss  of  an  audience. 
He  felt  personally  aggrieved  and  uncon 
sciously  held  his  mutton-head  companion  re 
sponsible  for  it. 

Save  existence,  they  had  nothing  in  com 
mon,  —  came  in  touch  on  no  single  point. 
Weatherbee  was  a  clerk  who  had  known 
naught  but  clerking  all  his  life ;  Cuthfert 
was  a  master  of  arts,  a  dabbler  in  oils,  and 
had  written  not  a  little.  The  one  was  a 
lower-class  man  who  considered  himself  a 


IN  A  FAR  COUNTRY  83 

gentleman,  and  the  other  was  a  gentleman 
who  knew  himself  to  be  such.  From  this  it 
may  be  remarked  that  a  man  can  be  a  gentle 
man  without  possessing  the  first  instinct  of 
true  comradeship.  The  clerk  was  as  sensu 
ous  as  the  other  was  assthetic,  and  his  love 
adventures,  told  at  great  length  and  chiefly 
coined  from  his  imagination,  affected  the 
supersensitive  master  of  arts  in  the  same  way 
as  so  many  whiffs  of  sewer  gas.  He  deemed 
the  clerk  a  filthy,  uncultured  brute,  whose 
place  was  in  the  muck  with  the  swine,  and 
told  him  so ;  and  he  was  reciprocally  informed 
that  he  was  a  milk-and-water  sissy  and  a  cad. 
Weatherbee  could  not  have  defined  "cad" 
for  his  life  ;  but  it  satisfied  its  purpose,  which 
after  all  seems  the  main  point  in  life. 

Weatherbee  flatted  every  third  note  and 
sang  such  songs  as  "  The  Boston  Burglar  " 
and  "  The  Handsome  Cabin  Boy,"  for  hours 
at  a  time,  while  Cuthfert  wept  with  rage,  till 
he  could  stand  it  no  longer  and  fled  into  the 
outer  cold.  But  there  was  no  escape.  The 
intense  frost  could  not  be  endured  for  long 
at  a  time,  and  the  little  cabin  crowded  them 
—  beds,  stove,  table,  and  all  —  into  a  space 
of  ten  by  twelve.  The  very  presence  of 


84  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

either  became  a  personal  affront  to  the  other, 
and  they  lapsed  into  sullen  silences  which 
increased  in  length  and  strength  as  the  days 
went  by.  Occasionally,  the  flash  of  an  eye 
or  the  curl  of  a  lip  got  the  better  of  them, 
though  they  strove  to  wholly  ignore  each 
other  during  these  mute  periods.  And  a 
great  wonder  sprang  up  in  the  breast  of 
each,  as  to  how  God  had  ever  coine  to  cre 
ate  the  other. 

With  little  to  do,  time  became  an  intoler 
able  burden  to  them.  This  naturally  made 
them  still  lazier.  They  sank  into  a  physical 
lethargy  which  there  was  no  escaping,  and 
which  made  them  rebel  at  the  performance 
of  the  smallest  chore.  One  morning  when  it 
was  his  turn  to  cook  the  common  breakfast, 
Weatherbee  rolled  out  of  his  blankets,  and 
to  the  snoring  of  his  companion,  lighted  first 
the  slush-lamp  and  then  the  fire.  The  kettles 
were  frozen  hard,  and  there  was  no  water  in 
the  cabin  with  which  to  wash.  But  he  did 
not  mind  that.  Waiting  for  it  to  thaw,  he 
sliced  the  bacon  and  plunged  into  the  hateful 
task  of  bread-making.  Cuthfert  had  been 
slyly  watching  through  his  half-closed  lids. 
Consequently  there  was  a  scene,  in  which 


IN  A   FAR   COUNTRY  85 

they  fervently  blessed  each  other,  and  agreed, 
thenceforth,  that  each  do  his  own  cooking.  A 
week  later,  Cuthfert  neglected  his  morning 
ablutions,  but  none  the  less  complacently  ate 
the  meal  which  he  had  cooked.  Weatherbee 
grinned.  After  that  the  foolish  custom  of 
washing  passed  out  of  their  lives. 

As  the  sugar-pile  and  other  little  luxuries 
dwindled,  they  began  to  be  afraid  they  were 
not  getting  their  proper  shares,  and  in  order 
that  they  might  not  be  robbed,  they  fell  to 
gorging  themselves.  The  luxuries  suffered 
in  this  gluttonous  contest,  as  did  also  the 
men.  In  the  absence  of  fresh  vegetables 
and  exercise,  their  blood  became  impover 
ished,  and  a  loathsome,  purplish  rash  crept 
over  their  bodies.  Yet  they  refused  to  heed 
the  warning.  Next,  their  muscles  and  joints 
began  to  swell,  the  flesh  turning  black,  while 
their  mouths,  gums,  and  lips  took  on  the 
color  of  rich  cream.  Instead  of  being  drawn 
together  by  their  misery,  each  gloated  over 
the  other's  symptoms  as  the  scurvy  took  its 
course. 

They  lost  all  regard  for  personal  appear 
ance,  and  for  that  matter,  common  decency. 
The  cabin  became  a  pigpen,  and  never  once 


86  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

were  the  beds  made  or  fresh  pine  boughs  laid 
underneath.  Yet  they  could  not  keep  to  their 
blankets,  as  they  would  have  wished ;  for  the 
frost  was  inexorable,  and  the  fire  box  con 
sumed  much  fuel.  The  hair  of  their  heads 
and  faces  grew  long  and  shaggy,  while  their 
garments  would  have  disgusted  a  ragpicker. 
But  they  did  not  care.  They  were  sick,  and 
there  was  no  one  to  see  ;  besides,  it  was  very 
painful  to  move  about. 

To  all  this  was  added  a  new  trouble,  —  the 
Fear  of  the  North.  This  Fear  was  the  joint 
child  of  the  Great  Cold  and  the  Great  Silence, 
and  was  born  in  the  darkness  of  December, 
when  the  sun  dipped  below  the  southern  hori 
zon  for  good.  It  affected  them  according  to 
their  natures.  Weatherbee  fell  prey  to  the 
grosser  superstitions,  and  did  his  best  to  resur 
rect  the  spirits  which  slept  in  the  forgotten 
graves.  It  was  a  fascinating  thing,  and  in 
his  dreams  they  came  to  him  from  out  of  the 
cold,  and  snuggled  into  his  blankets,  and  told 
him  of  their  toils  and  troubles  ere  they  died. 
He  shrank  away  from  the  clammy  contact  as 
they  drew  closer  and  twined  their  frozen 
limbs  about  him,  and  when  they  whispered  in 
his  ear  of  things  to  come,  the  cabin  rang  with 


IN   A   FAR   COUNTRY  87 

his  frightened  shrieks.  Cuthfert  did  not  un 
derstand,  —  for  they  no  longer  spoke,  —  and 
when  thus  awakened  he  invariably  grabbed 
for  his  revolver.  Then  he  would  sit  up  in 
bed,  shivering  nervously,  with  the  weapon 
trained  on  the  unconscious  dreamer.  Cuth 
fert  deemed  the  man  going  mad,  and  so 
came  to  fear  for  his  life. 

His  own  malady  assumed  a  less  concrete 
form.  The  mysterious  artisan  who  had  laid 
the  cabin,  log  by  log,  had  pegged  a  wind- 
vane  to  the  ridge-pole.  Cuthfert  noticed  it 
always  pointed  south,  and  one  day,  irritated 
by  its  steadfastness  of  purpose,  he  turned  it 
toward  the  east.  He  watched  eagerly,  but 
never  a  breath  came  by  to  disturb  it.  Then 
he  turned  the  vane  to  the  north,  swearing 
never  again  to  touch  it  till  the  wind  did  blow. 
But  the  air  frightened  him  with  its  unearthly 
calm,  and  he  often  rose  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  to  see  if  the  vane  had  veered,  —  ten 
degrees  would  have  satisfied  him.  But  no,  it 
poised  above  him  as  unchangeable  as  fate. 
His  imagination  ran  riot,  till  it  became  to 
him  a  fetich.  Sometimes  he  followed  the 
path  it  pointed  across  the  dismal  dominions, 
and  allowed  his  soul  to  become  saturated  with 


88  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

the  Fear.  He  dwelt  upon  the  unseen  and  the 
unknown  till  the  burden  of  eternity  appeared 
to  be  crushing  him.  Everything  in  the  North 
land  had  that  crushing  effect,  —  the  absence 
of  life  and  motion ;  the  darkness ;  the  infinite 
peace  of  the  brooding  land  ;  the  ghastly  si 
lence,  which  made  the  echo  of  each  heart-beat 
a  sacrilege ;  the  solemn  forest  which  seemed 
to  guard  an  awful,  inexpressible  something, 
which  neither  word  nor  thought  could  com 
pass. 

The  world  he  had  so  recently  left,  with  its 
busy  nations  and  great  enterprises,  seemed 
very  far  away.  Recollections  occasionally 
obtruded,  —  recollections  of  marts  and  gal 
leries  and  crowded  thoroughfares,  of  even 
ing  dress  and  social  functions,  of  good  men 
and  dear  women  he  had  known,  —  but  they 
were  dim  memories  of  a  life  he  had  lived  long 
centuries  agone,  on  some  other  planet.  This 
phantasm  was  the  Reality.  Standing  beneath 
the  wind-vane,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  polar 
skies,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  realize 
that  the  Southland  really  existed,  that  at  that 
very  moment  it  was  a-roar  with  life  and 
action.  There  was  no  Southland,  no  men 
being  born  of  women,  no  giving  and  taking 


IN  A  FAR   COUNTRY  89 

in  marriage.  Beyond  his  bleak  sky-line 
there  stretched  vast  solitudes,  and  beyond 
these  still  vaster  solitudes.  There  were  no 
lands  of  sunshine,  heavy  with  the  perfume  of 
flowers.  Such  things  were  only  old  dreams 
of  paradise.  The  sunlands  of  the  West  and 
the  spicelands  of  the  East,  the  smiling  Arca- 
dias  and  blissful  Islands  of  the  Blest,  —  ha  ! 
ha !  His  laughter  split  the  void  and  shocked 
him  with  its  unwonted  sound.  There  was  no 
sun.  This  was  the  Universe,  dead  and  cold 
and  dark,  and  he  its  only  citizen.  Weather- 
bee  ?  At  such  moments  Weatherbee  did  not 
count.  He  was  a  Caliban,  a  monstrous  phan 
tom,  fettered  to  him  for  untold  ages,  the 
penalty  of  some  forgotten  crime. 

He  lived  with  Death  among  the  dead, 
emasculated  by  the  sense  of  his  own  insignifi 
cance,  crushed  by  the  passive  mastery  of  the 
slumbering  ages.  The  magnitude  of  all  things 
appalled  him.  Everything  partook  of  the  su 
perlative  save  himself,  —  the  perfect  cessa 
tion  of  wind  and  motion,  the  immensity  of 
the  snow-covered  wilderness,  the  height  of 
the  sky  and  the  depth  of  the  silence.  That 
wind-vane,  —  if  it  would  only  move.  If  a 
thunderbolt  would  fall,  or  the  forest  flare  up 


90  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

in  flame.  The  rolling  up  of  the  heavens  as 
a  scroll,  the  crash  of  Doom  —  anything,  any 
thing  !  But  no,  nothing  moved  ;  the  Silence 
crowded  in,  and  the  Fear  of  the  North  laid 
icy  fingers  on  his  heart. 

Once,  like  another  Crusoe,  by  the  edge  of 
the  river  he  came  upon  a  track,  —  the  faint 
tracery  of  a  snowshoe  rabbit  on  the  delicate 
snow-crust.  It  was  a  revelation.  There  was 
life  in  the  Northland.  He  would  follow  it, 
look  upon  it,  gloat  over  it.  He  forgot  his 
swollen  muscles,  plunging  through  the  deep 
snow  in  an  ecstasy  of  anticipation.  The  forest 
swallowed  him  up,  and  the  brief  midday  twi 
light  vanished  ;  but  he  pursued  his  quest  till 
exhausted  nature  asserted  itself  and  laid  him 
helpless  in  the  snow.  There  he  groaned  and 
cursed  his  folly,  and  knew  the  track  to  be 
the  fancy  of  his  brain ;  and  late  that  night 
he  dragged  himself  into  the  cabin  on  hands 
and  knees,  his  cheeks  frozen  and  a  strange 
numbness  about  his  feet.  Weatherbee 
grinned  malevolently,  but  made  no  offer  to 
help  him.  He  thrust  needles  into  his  toes 
and  thawed  them  out  by  the  stove.  A  week 
later  mortification  set  in. 

But  the  clerk  had  his  own  troubles.     The 


IN   A   FAR   COUNTRY  91 

dead  men  came  out  of  their  graves  more  fre 
quently  now,  and  rarely  left  him,  waking  or 
sleeping.  He  grew  to  wait  and  dread  their 
coming,  never  passing  the  twin  cairns  with 
out  a  shudder.  One  night  they  came  to  him 
in  his  sleep  and  led  him  forth  to  an  appointed 
task.  Frightened  into  inarticulate  horror, 
he  awoke  between  the  heaps  of  stones  and 
fled  wildly  to  the  cabin.  But  he  had  lain 
there  for  some  time,  for  his  feet  and  cheeks 
were  also  frozen. 

Sometimes  he  became  frantic  at  their  in 
sistent  presence,  and  danced  about  the  cabin, 
cutting  the  empty  air  with  an  axe,  and  smash 
ing  everything  within  reach.  During  these 
ghostly  encounters,  Cuthfert  huddled  into  his 
blankets  and  followed  the  madman  about 
with  a  cocked  revolver,  ready  to  shoot  him  if 
he  came  too  near.  But,  recovering  from  one 
of  these  spells,  the  clerk  noticed  the  weapon 
trained  upon  him.  His  suspicions  were 
aroused,  and  thenceforth  he,  too,  lived  in 
fear  of  his  life.  They  watched  each  other 
closely  after  that,  and  faced  about  in  startled 
fright  whenever  either  passed  behind  the 
other's  back.  This  apprehensiveness  became 
a  mania  which  controlled  them  even  in  their 


92  THE   SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

sleep.  Through  mutual  fear  they  tacitly  let 
the  slush-lamp  burn  all  night,  and  saw  to  a 
plentiful  supply  of  bacon-grease  before  re 
tiring.  The  slightest  movement  on  the  part 
of  one  was  sufficient  to  arouse  the  other,  and 
many  a  still  watch  their  gazes  countered  as 
they  shook  beneath  their  blankets  with 
fingers  on  the  trigger-guards. 

What  with  the  Fear  of  the  North,  the 
mental  strain,  and  the  ravages  of  the  disease, 
they  lost  all  semblance  of  humanity,  taking 
on  the  appearance  of  wild  beasts,  hunted  and 
desperate.  Their  cheeks  and  noses,  as  an 
aftermath  of  the  freezing,  had  turned  black. 
Their  frozen  toes  had  begun  to  drop  away 
at  the  first  and  second  joints.  Every  move 
ment  brought  pain,  but  the  fire  box  was  in 
satiable,  wringing  a  ransom  of  torture  from 
their  miserable  bodies.  Day  in,  day  out,  it 
demanded  its  food,  —  a  veritable  pound  of 
flesh,  —  and  they  dragged  themselves  into 
the  forest  to  chop  wood  on  their  knees. 
Once,  crawling  thus  in  search  of  dry  sticks, 
unknown  to  each  other  they  entered  a  thicket 
from  opposite  sides.  Suddenly,  without  warn 
ing,  two  peering  death's-heads  confronted 
each  other.  Suffering  had  so  transformed 


IN  A   FAR   COUNTRY  93 

them  that  recognition  was  impossible.  They 
sprang  to  their  feet,  shrieking  with  terror, 
and  dashed  away  on  their  mangled  stumps ; 
and  falling  at  the  cabin  door,  they  clawed 
and  scratched  like  demons  till  they  discovered 
their  mistake. 

Occasionally  they  lapsed  normal,  and  dur 
ing  one  of  these  sane  intervals,  the  chief 
bone  of  contention,  the  sugar,  had  been 
divided  equally  between  them.  They  guarded 
their  separate  sacks,  stored  up  in  the  cache, 
with  jealous  eyes ;  for  there  were  but  a  few 
cupfuls  left,  and  they  were  totally  devoid  of 
faith  in  each  other.  But  one  day  Cuthfert 
made  a  mistake.  Hardly  able  to  move,  sick 
with  pain,  with  his  head  swimming  and  eyes 
blinded,  he  crept  into  the  cache,  sugar  canis 
ter  in  hand,  and  mistook  Weatherbee's  sack 
for  his  own. 

January  had  been  born  but  a  few  days 
when  this  occurred.  The  sun  had  some  time 
since  passed  its  lowest  southern  declination, 
and  at  meridian  now  threw  flaunting  streaks 
of  yellow  light  upon  the  northern  sky.  On 
the  day  following  his  mistake  with  the  sugar- 
bag,  Cuthfert  found  himself  feeling  better, 


94  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

both  in  body  and  in  spirit.  As  noontime 
drew  near  and  the  day  brightened,  he  dragged 
himself  outside  to  feast  on  the  evanescent 
glow,  which  was  to  him  an  earnest  of  the 
sun's  future  intentions.  Weatherbee  was  also 
feeling  somewhat  better,  and  crawled  out  be 
side  him.  They  propped  themselves  in  the 
snow  beneath  the  moveless  wind-vane,  and 
waited. 

The  stillness  of  death  was  about  them.  In 
other  climes,  when  nature  falls  into  such 
moods,  there  is  a  subdued  air  of  expectancy, 
a  waiting  for  some  small  voice  to  take  up  the 
broken  strain.  Not  so  in  the  North.  The 
two  men  had  lived  seeming  aeons  in  this 
ghostly  peace.  They  could  remember  no 
song  of  the  past ;  they  could  conjure  no  song 
of  the  future.  This  unearthly  calm  had  al 
ways  been,  —  the  tranquil  silence  of  eternity. 

Their  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  north.  Un 
seen,  behind  their  backs,  behind  the  towering 
mountains  to  the  south,  the  sun  swept  toward 
the  zenith  of  another  sky  than  theirs.  Sole 
spectators  of  the  mighty  canvas,  they  watched 
the  false  dawn  slowly  grow.  A  faint  flame 
began  to  glow  and  smoulder.  It  deepened  in 
intensity,  ringing  the  changes  of  reddish-yel- 


IN  A  FAR  COUNTRY  95 

low,  purple,  and  saffron.  So  bright  did  it 
become  that  Cuthfert  thought  the  sun  must 
surely  be  behind  it,  —  a  miracle,  the  sun  ris 
ing  in  the  north !  Suddenly,  without  warn 
ing  and  without  fading,  the  canvas  was  swept 
clean.  There  was  no  color  in  the  sky.  The 
light  had  gone  out  of  the  day.  They  caught 
their  breaths  in  half -sobs.  But  lo  !  the  air 
was  a-glint  with  particles  of  scintillating 
frost,  and  there,  to  the  north,  the  wind-vane 
lay  in  vague  outline  on  the  snow.  A  shadow ! 
A  shadow !  It  was  exactly  midday.  They 
jerked  their  heads  hurriedly  to  the  south. 
A  golden  rim  peeped  over  the  mountain's 
snowy  shoulder,  smiled  upon  them  an  instant, 
then  dipped  from  sight  again. 

There  were  tears  in  their  eyes  as  they 
sought  each  other.  A  strange  softening  came 
over  them.  They  felt  irresistibly  drawn 
toward  each  other.  The  sun  was  coming 
back  again.  It  would  be  with  them  to-mor 
row,  and  the  next  day,  and  the  next.  And 
it  would  stay  longer  every  visit,  and  a  time 
would  come  when  it  would  ride  their  heaven 
day  and  night,  never  once  dropping  below 
the  sky-line.  There  would  be  no  night. 
The  ice-locked  winter  would  be  broken  ;  the 


96  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

winds  would  blow  and  the  forests  answer  ; 
the  land  would  bathe  in  the  blessed  sunshine, 
and  life  renew.  Hand  in  hand,  they  would 
quit  this  horrid  dreain  and  journey  back  to 
the  Southland.  They  lurched  blindly  for 
ward,  and  their  hands  met,  —  their  poor 
maimed  hands,  swollen  and  distorted  beneath 
their  mittens. 

But  the  promise  was  destined  to  remain 
unfulfilled.  The  Northland  is  the  North 
land,  and  men  work  out  their  souls  by  strange 
rules,  which  other  men,  who  have  not  jour 
neyed  into  far  countries,  cannot  come  to 
understand. 

An  hour  later,  Cuthf  ert  put  a  pan  of  bread 
into  the  oven,  and  fell  to  speculating  on  what 
the  surgeons  could  do  with  his  feet  when  he 
got  back.  Home  did  not  seem  so  very  far 
away  now.  Weatherbee  was  rummaging  in 
the  cache.  Of  a  sudden,  he  raised  a  whirl 
wind  of  blasphemy,  which  in  turn  ceased  with 
startling  abruptness.  The  other  man  had 
robbed  his  sugar-sack.  Still,  things  might 
have  happened  differently,  had  not  the  two 
dead  men  come  out  from  under  the  stones 
and  hushed  the  hot  words  in  his  throat. 


IN   A   FAR   COUNTRY  97 

They  led  him  quite  gently  from  the  cache, 
which  he  forgot  to  close.  That  consumma 
tion  was  reached ;  that  something  they  had 
whispered  to  him  in  his  dreams  was  about 
to  happen.  They  guided  him  gently,  very 
gently,  to  the  woodpile,  where  they  put  the 
axe  in  his  hands.  Then  they  helped  him  shove 
open  the  cabin  door,  and  he  felt  sure  they 
shut  it  after  him,  —  at  least  he  heard  it  slam 
and  the  latch  fall  sharply  into  place.  And 
he  knew  they  were  waiting  just  without,  wait 
ing  for  him  to  do  his  task. 

"  Carter  !     I  say,  Carter  !  " 

Percy  Cuthfert  was  frightened  at  the  look 
on  the  clerk's  face,  and  he  made  haste  to  put 
the  table  between  them. 

Carter  Weatherbee  followed,  without  haste 
and  without  enthusiasm.  There  was  neither 
pity  nor  passion  in  his  face,  but  rather  the 
patient,  stolid  look  of  one  who  has  certain 
work  to  do  and  goes  about  it  methodically. 

"  I  say,  what 's  the  matter  ?  " 

The  clerk  dodged  back,  cutting  off  his  re 
treat  to  the  door,  but  never  opening  his 
mouth. 

"  I  say,  Carter,  I  say ;  let 's  talk.  There 's 
a  good  chap." 


98  THE   SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

The  master  of  arts  was  thinking  rapidly, 
now,  shaping  a  skillful  flank  movement  on 
the  bed  where  his  Smith  &  Wesson  lay. 
Keeping  his  eyes  on  the  madman,  he  rolled 
backward  on  the  bunk,  at  the  same  time 
clutching  the  pistol. 

"Carter!" 

The  powder  flashed  full  in  Weatherbee's 
face,  but  he  swung  his  weapon  and  leaped 
forward.  The  axe  bit  deeply  at  the  base  of 
the  spine,  and  Percy  Cuthfert  felt  all  con 
sciousness  of  his  lower  limbs  leave  him.  Then 
the  clerk  fell  heavily  upon  him,  clutching 
him  by  the  throat  with  feeble  fingers.  The 
sharp  bite  of  the  axe  had  caused  Cuthfert  to 
drop  the  pistol,  and  as  his  lungs  panted  for 
release,  he  fumbled  aimlessly  for  it  among 
the  blankets.  Then  he  remembered.  He 
slid  a  hand  up  the  clerk's  belt  to  the  sheath- 
knife  ;  and  they  drew  very  close  to  each 
other  in  that  last  clinch. 

Percy  Cuthfert  felt  his  strength  leave  him. 
The  lower  portion  of  his  body  was  useless. 
The  inert  weight  of  Weatherbee  crushed  him, 
-  crushed  him  and  pinned  him  there  like  a 
bear  under  a  trap.  The  cabin  became  filled 
with  a  familiar  odor,  and  he  knew  the  bread 


IN   A   FAR  COUNTRY  99 

to  be  burning.  Yet  what  did  it  matter  ?  He 
would  never  need  it.  And  there  were  all  of 
six  cupf  uls  of  sugar  in  the  cache,  —  if  he  had 
foreseen  this  he  would  not  have  been  so  sav 
ing  the  last  several  days.  Would  the  wind- 
vane  ever  move  ?  It  might  even  be  veering 
now.  Why  not?  Had  he  not  seen  the  sun 
to-day  ?  He  would  go  and  see.  No  ;  it  was 
impossible  to  move.  He  had  not  thought  the 
clerk  so  heavy  a  man. 

How  quickly  the  cabin  cooled  !  The  fire 
must  be  out.  The  cold  was  forcing  in.  It 
must  be  below  zero  already,  and  the  ice  creep 
ing  up  the  inside  of  the  door.  He  could  not 
see  it,  but  his  past  experience  enabled  him  to 
gauge  its  progress  by  the  cabin's  tempera 
ture.  The  lower  hinge  must  be  white  ere 
now.  Would  the  tale  of  this  ever  reach  the 
world?  How  would  his  friends  take  it? 
They  would  read  it  over  their  coffee,  most 
likely,  and  talk  it  over  at  the  clubs.  He 
could  see  them  very  clearly.  "  Poor  Old 
Cuthfert,"  they  murmured  ;  "  not  such  a  bad 
sort  of  a  chap,  after  all."  He  smiled  at  their 
eulogies,  and  passed  on  in  search  of  a  Turk 
ish  bath.  It  was  the  same  old  crowd  upon 
the  streets.  Strange,  they  did  not  notice  his 


100  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

moosehide  moccasins  and  tattered  German 
socks!  He  would  take  a  cab.  And  after 
the  bath  a  shave  would  not  be  bad.  No  ;  he 
would  eat  first.  Steak,  and  potatoes,  and 
green  things,  —  how  fresh  it  all  was  !  And 
what  was  that  ?  Squares  of  honey,  streaming 
liquid  amber !  But  why  did  they  bring  so 
much  ?  Ha !  ha !  he  could  never  eat  it  all. 
Shine !  Why  certainly.  He  put  his  foot  on 
the  box.  The  bootblack  looked  curiously  up 
at  him,  and  he  remembered  his  moosehide 
moccasins  and  went  away  hastily. 

Hark!  The  wind-vane  must  be  surely 
spinning.  No  ;  a  mere  singing  in  his  ears. 
That  was  all,  —  a  mere  singing.  The  ice 
must  have  passed  the  latch  by  now.  More 
likely  the  upper  hinge  was  covered.  Between 
the  moss-chinked  roof-poles,  little  points  of 
frost  began  to  appear.  How  slowly  they 
grew  !  No ;  not  so  slowly.  There  was  a 
new  one,  and  there  another.  Two  —  three  — 
four ;  they  were  coming  too  fast  to  count. 
There  were  two  growing  together.  And 
there,  a  third  had  joined  them.  Why,  there 
were  no  more  spots.  They  had  run  together 
and  formed  a  sheet. 

Well,  he  would  have  company.     If  Gabriel 


IN   A   FAR  COUNTRY  101 

ever  broke  the  silence  of  the  North,  they 
would  stand  together,  hand  in  hand,  before 
the  great  White  Throne.  And  God  would 
judge  them,  God  would  judge  them! 

Then  Percy  Cuthfert  closed  his  eyes  and 
dropped  off  to  sleep. 


TO  THE  MAN  ON  TRAIL 

"  DUMP  it  in." 

"But  I  say,  Kid,  is  n't  that  going  it  a  little 
too  strong  ?  Whiskey  and  alcohol 's  bad 
enough  ;  but  when  it  conies  to  brandy  and 
pepper-sauce  and  "  — 

"  Dump  it  in.  Who 's  making  this  punch, 
anyway  ?  "  And  Malemute  Kid  smiled  be- 
nignantly  through  the  clouds  of  steam.  "  By 
the  time  you  've  been  in  this  country  as  long 
as  I  have,  my  son,  and  lived  on  rabbit-tracks 
and  salmon-belly,  you  '11  learn  that  Christmas 
conies  only  once  per  annum.  And  a  Christ 
mas  without  punch  is  sinking  a  hole  to  bed 
rock  with  nary  a  pay-streak." 

"  Stack  up  on  that  fer  a  high  cyard,"  ap 
proved  Big  Jim  Belden,  who  had  come  down 
from  his  claim  on  Mazy  May  to  spend  Christ 
mas,  and  who,  as  every  one  knew,  had  been 
living  the  two  months  past  on  straight  moose- 
meat.  "  Hain't  fergot  the  hooch  we-uns  made 
on  the  Tanana,  hev  yeh  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  guess  yes.     Boys,  it  would  have 


TO   THE   MAN   ON   TRAIL  103 

done  your  hearts  good  to  see  that  whole  tribe 
fighting  drunk  —  and  all  because  of  a  glori 
ous  ferment  of  sugar  and  sour  dough.  That 
was  before  your  time/'  Malemute  Kid  said  as 
he  turned  to  Stanley  Prince,  a  young  mining 
expert  who  had  been  in  two  years.  "  No  white 
women  in  the  country  then,  and  Mason  wanted 
to  get  married.  Euth's  father  was  chief  of 
the  Tananas,  and  objected,  like  the  rest  of 
the  tribe.  Stiff?  Why,  I  used  my  last 
pound  of  sugar;  finest  work  in  that  line  I 
ever  did  in  my  life.  You  should  have  seen 
the  chase,  down  the  river  and  across  the 
portage." 

"  But  the  squaw  ?  "  asked  Louis  Savoy,  the 
tall  French-Canadian,  becoming  interested; 
for  he  had  heard  of  this  wild  deed,  when  at 
Forty  Mile  the  preceding  winter. 

Then  Malemute  Kid,  who  was  a  born  ra 
conteur,  told  the  unvarnished  tale  of  the 
Northland  Lochinvar.  More  than  one  rough 
adventurer  of  the  North  felt  his  heartstrings 
draw  closer,  and  experienced  vague  yearnings 
for  the  sunnier  pastures  of  the  Southland, 
where  life  promised  something  more  than  a 
barren  struggle  with  cold  and  death. 

"  We  struck  the  Yukon  just  behind   the 


104  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

first  ice-run/'  he  concluded,  "  and  the  tribe 
only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  behind.  But  that 
saved  us  ;  for  the  second  run  broke  the  jam 
above  and  shut  them  out.  When  they  finally 
got  into  Nuklukyeto,  the  whole  Post  was 
ready  for  them0  And  as  to  the  foregather 
ing,  ask  Father  Roubeau  here  :  he  performed 
the  ceremony. " 

The  Jesuit  took  the  pipe  from  his  lips,  but 
could  only  express  his  gratification  with  patri 
archal  smiles,  while  Protestant  and  Catholic 
vigorously  applauded. 

"  By  gar  !  "  ejaculated  Louis  Savoy,  who 
seemed  overcome  by  the  romance  of  it.  "  La 
petite  squaw ;  mon  Mason  brav.  By  gar  !  " 

Then,  as  the  first  tin  cups  of  punch  went 
round,  Settles  the  Unquenchable  sprang  to 
his  feet  and  struck  up  his  favorite  drinking 
song  :  — 

"  There  's  Henry  Ward  Beecher 
And  Sunday-school  teachers, 

All  drink  of  the  sassafras  root  ; 
But  you  bet  all  the  same, 
If  it  had  its  right  name, 

It 's  the  juice  of  the  forbidden  fruit." 

"  Oh  the  juice  of  the  forbidden  fruit," 

roared  out  the  Bacchanalian  chorus,  — 


TO   THE   MAN   ON  TRAIL  105 

"  Oh  the  juice  of  the  forbidden  fruit ; 
But  you  bet  all  the  same, 
If  it  had  its  right  name, 
It 's  the  juice  of  the  forbidden  fruit." 

Malemute  Kid's  frightful  concoction  did 
its  work ;  the  men  of  the  camps  and  trails 
unbent  in  its  genial  glow,  and  jest  and  song 
and  tales  of  past  adventure  went  round  the 
board.  Aliens  from  a  dozen  lands,  they 
toasted  each  and  all.  It  was  the  English 
man,  Prince,  who  pledged  "  Uncle  Sam,  the 
precocious  infant  of  the  New  World ; "  the 
Yankee,  Bettles,  who  drank  to  "  The  Queen, 
God  bless  her ;  "  and  together,  Savoy  and 
Meyers,  the  German  trader,  clanged  their 
cups  to  Alsace  and  Lorraine. 

Then  Malemute  Kid  arose,  cup  in  hand, 
and  glanced  at  the  greased-paper  window, 
where  the  frost  stood  full  three  inches  thick. 
"  A  health  to  the  man  on  trail  this  night ; 
may  his  grub  hold  out ;  may  his  dogs  keep 
their  legs ;  may  his  matches  never  miss  fire." 

Crack  !  Crack  !  — they  heard  the  familiar 
music  of  the  dogwhip,  the  whining  howl  of 
the  Malemutes,  and  the  crunch  of  a  sled  as 
it  drew  up  to  the  cabin.  Conversation  lan 
guished  while  they  waited  the  issue. 


106  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

"  An  old-timer ;  cares  for  his  dogs  and  then 
himself,"  whispered  Malemute  Kid  to  Prince, 
as  they  listened  to  the  snapping  jaws  and  the 
wolfish  snarls  and  yelps  of  pain  which  pro 
claimed  to  their  practiced  ears  that  the  stran 
ger  was  beating  back  their  dogs  while  he  fed 
his  own. 

Then  came  the  expected  knock,  sharp  and 
confident,  and  the  stranger  entered.  Daz 
zled  by  the  light,  he  hesitated  a  moment  at 
the  door,  giving  to  all  a  chance  for  scrutiny. 
He  was  a  striking  personage,  and  a  most  pic 
turesque  one,  in  his  Arctic  dress  of  wool  and 
fur.  Standing  six  foot  two  or  three,  with 
proportionate  breadth  of  shoulders  and  depth 
of  chest,  his  smooth-shaven  face  nipped  by 
the  cold  to  a  gleaming  pink,  his  long  lashes 
and  eyebrows  white  with  ice,  and  the  ear  and 
neck  flaps  of  his  great  wolfskin  cap  loosely 
raised,  he  seemed,  of  a  verity,  the  Frost 
King,  just  stepped  in  out  of  the  night. 
Clasped  outside  his  mackinaw  jacket,  a 
beaded  belt  held  two  large  Colt's  revolvers 
and  a  hunting-knife,  while  he  carried,  in  ad 
dition  to  the  inevitable  dogwhip,  a  smokeless 
rifle  of  the  largest  bore  and  latest  pattern. 
As  he  came  forward,  for  all  his  step  was  firm 


TO  THE   MAN   ON  TRAIL  107 

and  elastic,  they  could  see  that  fatigue  bore 
heavily  upon  him. 

An  awkward  silence  had  fallen,  but  his 
hearty  "What  cheer,  my  lads?"  put  them 
quickly  at  ease,  and  the  next  instant  Male- 
mute  Kid  and  he  had  gripped  hands.  Though 
they  had  never  met,  each  had  heard  of  the 
other,  and  the  recognition  was  mutual.  A 
sweeping  introduction  and  a  mug  of  punch 
were  forced  upon  him  before  he  could  explain 
his  errand. 

"  How  long  since  that  basket-sled,  with 
three  men  and  eight  dogs,  passed  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  An  even  two  days  ahead.  Are  you  after 
them  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  my  team.  Run  them  off  under  my 
very  nose,  the  cusses.  I  've  gained  two  days 
on  them  already,  —  pick  them  up  on  the  next 


run." 


"Reckon  they'll  show  spunk?"  asked 
Belden,  in  order  to  keep  up  the  conversation, 
for  Malemute  Kid  already  had  the  coffee-pot 
on  and  was  busily  frying  bacon  and  moose- 
meat. 

The  stranger  significantly  tapped  his 
revolvers. 


108  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

"When  'd  yeh  leave  Dawson?" 

"Twelve  o'clock." 

"  Last  night  ?  "  —  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"  To-day." 

A  murmur  of  surprise  passed  round  the 
circle.  And  well  it  might;  for  it  was  just 
midnight,  and  seventy-five  miles  of  rough 
river  trail  was  not  to  be  sneered  at  for  a 
twelve  hours'  run. 

The  talk  soon  became  impersonal,  however, 
harking  back  to  the  trails  of  childhood.  As 
the  young  stranger  ate  of  the  rude  fare,  Male- 
mute  Kid  attentively  studied  his  face.  Nor 
was  he  long  in  deciding  that  it  was  fair,  hon 
est,  and  open,  and  that  he  liked  it.  Still 
youthful,  the  lines  had  been  firmly  traced  by 
toil  and  hardship.  Though  genial  in  conver 
sation,  and  mild  when  at  rest,  the  blue  eyes 
gave  promise  of  the  hard  steel-glitter  which 
comes  when  called  into  action,  especially 
against  odds.  The  heavy  jaw  and  square- 
cut  chin  demonstrated  rugged  pertinacity 
and  indomitability.  Nor,  though  the  attri 
butes  of  the  lion  were  there,  was  there  want 
ing  the  certain  softness,  the  hint  of  womanli 
ness,  which  bespoke  the  emotional  nature. 

"  So  thet  's  how  me  an'  the  oP  woman  got 


TO  THE  MAN  ON  TRAIL  109 

spliced,"  said  Belden,  concluding  the  exciting 
tale  of  his  courtship.  "  ( Here  we  be,  dad/ 
sez  she.  ( An'  may  yeh  be  damned/  sez  he 
to  her,  an'  then  to  me,  '  Jim,  yeh  —  yeh  git 
outen  them  good  duds  o'  yourn  ;  I  want  a 
right  peart  slice  o'  thet  forty  acre  ploughed 
'fore  dinner.'  An'  then  he  turns  on  her  an' 
sez, '  An'  yeh,  Sal ;  yeh  sail  inter  them  dishes.' 
An'  then  he  sort  o'  sniffled  an'  kissed  her. 
An'  I  was  thet  happy,  —  but  he  seen  me  an' 
roars  out, (  Yeh,  Jim  ! '  An'  yeh  bet  I  dusted 
fer  the  barn." 

"Any  kids  waiting  for  you  back  in  the 
States  ?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

"  Nope ;  Sal  died  'fore  any  come.  Thet 's 
why  I  'm  here."  Belden  abstractedly  began 
to  light  his  pipe,  which  had  failed  to  go  out, 
and  then  brightened  up  with,  "  How  'bout 
yerself,  stranger,  — married  man?" 

For  reply,  he  opened  his  watch,  slipped  it 
from  the  thong  which  served  for  a  chain,  and 
passed  it  over.  Belden  pricked  up  the  slush- 
lamp,  surveyed  the  inside  of  the  case  criti 
cally,  and  swearing  admiringly  to  himself, 
handed  it  over  to  Louis  Savoy.  With  numer 
ous  "  By  gars  !  "  he  finally  surrendered  it  to 
Prince,  and  they  noticed  that  his  hands  trem- 


110  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

bled  and  his  eyes  took  on  a  peculiar  softness. 
And  so  it  passed  from  horny  hand  to  horny 
hand — the  pasted  photograph  of  a  woman, 
the  clinging  kind  that  such  men  fancy,  with 
a  babe  at  the  breast.  Those  who  had  not  yet 
seen  the  wonder  were  keen  with  curiosity; 
those  who  had,  became  silent  and  retrospec 
tive.  They  could  face  the  pinch  of  famine, 
the  grip  of  scurvy,  or  the  quick  death  by 
field  or  flood ;  but  the  pictured  semblance  of 
a  stranger  woman  and  child  made  women  and 
children  of  them  all. 

"  Never  have  seen  the  youngster  yet,  — 
he  's  a  boy,  she  says,  and  two  years  old," 
said  the  stranger  as  he  received  the  treasure 
back.  A  lingering  moment  he  gazed  upon 
it,  then  snapped  the  case  and  turned  away, 
but  not  quick  enough  to  hide  the  restrained 
rush  of  tears. 

Malemute  Kid  led  him  to  a  bunk  and  bade 
him  turn  in. 

"  Call  me  at  four,  sharp.  Don't  fail  me," 
were  his  •  last  words,  and  a  moment  later  he 
was  breathing  in  the  heaviness  of  exhausted 

o 

sleep. 

"  By  Jove !  he  's  a  plucky  chap,"  commented 
Prince.  "  Three  hours'  sleep  after  seventy- 


TO   THE  MAN   ON  TRAIL  111 

five  miles  with  the  dogs,  and  then  the  trail 
again.  Who  is  he,  Kid?" 

"Jack  Westondale.  Been  in  going  on 
three  years,  with  nothing  but  the  name  of 
working  like  a  horse,  and  any  amount  of  bad 
luck  to  his  credit.  I  never  knew  him,  but 
Sitka  Charley  told  me  about  him." 

"  It  seems  hard  that  a  man  with  a  sweet 
young  wife  like  his  should  be  putting  in  his 
years  in  this  God-forsaken  hole,  where  every 
year  counts  two  on  the  outside." 

"  The  trouble  with  him  is  clean  grit  and 
stubbornness.  He 's  cleaned  up  twice  with  a 
stake,  but  lost  it  both  times." 

Here  the  conversation  was  broken  off  by 
an  uproar  from  Bettles,  for  the  effect  had 
begun  to  wear  away.  And  soon  the  bleak 
years  of  monotonous  grub  and  deadening  toil 
were  being  forgotten  in  rough  merriment. 
Malemute  Kid  alone  seemed  unable  to  lose 
himself,  and  cast  many  an  anxious  look  at 
his  watch.  Once  he  put  on  his  mittens  and 
beaver-skin  cap,  and  leaving  the  cabin,  fell  to 
rummaging  about  in  the  cache. 

Nor  could  he  wait  the  hour  designated ;  for 
he  was  fifteen  minutes  ahead  of  time  in  rous 
ing  his  guest.  The  young  giant  had  stiffened 


112  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

badly,  and  brisk  rubbing  was  necessary  to 
bring  him  to  his  feet.  He  tottered  painfully 
out  of  the  cabin,  to  find  his  dogs  harnessed 
and  everything  ready  for  the  start.  The  com 
pany  wished  him  good  luck  and  a  short  chase, 
while  Father  Roubeau,  hurriedly  blessing  him, 
led  the  stampede  for  the  cabin;  and  small 
wonder,  for  it  is  not  good  to  face  seventy- 
four  degrees  below  zero  with  naked  ears  and 
hands. 

Malemute  Kid  saw  him  to  the  main  trail, 
and  there,  gripping  his  hand  heartily,  gave 
him  advice. 

"  You  '11  find  a  hundred  pounds  of  salmon- 
eggs  on  the  sled,"  he  said.  "  The  dogs  will 
go  as  far  on  that  as  with  one  hundred  and 
fifty  of  fish,  and  you  can't  get  dog-food  at 
Pelly,  as  you  probably  expected."  The 
stranger  started,  and  his  eyes  flashed,  but 
he  did  not  interrupt.  "  You  can't  get  an 
ounce  of  food  for  dog  or  man  till  you  reach 
Five  Fingers,  and  that 's  a  stiff  two  hundred 
miles.  Watch  out  for  open  water  on  the 
Thirty  Mile  River,  and  be  sure  you  take  the 
big  cut-off  above  Le  Barge." 

"  How  did  you  know  it  ?  Surely  the  news 
can't  be  ahead  of  me  already  ?  " 


TO  THE  MAN   ON  TRAIL  113 

"  I  don't  know  it ;  and  what 's  more,  I 
don't  want  to  know  it.  But  you  never  owned 
that  team  you  're  chasing.  Sitka  Charley 
sold  it  to  them  last  spring.  But  he  sized  you 
up  to  me  as  square  once,  and  I  believe  him. 
I  've  seen  your  face ;  I  like  it.  And  I  've 
seen  —  why,  damn  you,  hit  the  high  places  for 
salt  water  and  that  wife  of  yours,  and"  — 
Here  the  Kid  unmittened  and  jerked  out  his 
sack. 

"  No  ;  I  don't  need  it,"  and  the  tears  froze 
on  his  cheeks  as  he  convulsively  gripped 
Malemute  Kid's  hand. 

"  Then  don't  spare  the  dogs  ;  cut  them 
out  of  the  traces  as  fast  as  they  drop ;  buy 
them,  and  think  they  're  cheap  at  ten  dollars 
a  pound.  You  can  get  them  at  Five  Fingers, 
Little  Salmon,  and  the  Hootalinqua.  And 
watch  out  for  wet  feet,"  was  his  parting 
advice.  "  Keep  a-traveling  up  to  twenty-five, 
but  if  it  gets  below  that,  build  a  fire  and 
change  your  socks." 

Fifteen  minutes  had  barely  elapsed  when 
the  jingle  of  bells  announced  new  arrivals. 
The  door  opened,  and  a  mounted  policeman 
of  the  Northwest  Territory  entered,  followed 


114  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

by  two  half-breed  dog-drivers.  Like  Weston- 
dale,  they  were  heavily  armed  and  showed 
signs  of  fatigue.  The  half-breeds  had  been 
born  to  the  trail,  and  bore  it  easily  ;  but  the 
young  policeman  was  badly  exhausted.  Still, 
the  dogged  obstinacy  of  his  race  held  him  to 
the  pace  he  had  set,  and  would  hold  him  till 
he  dropped  in  his  tracks. 

"When  did  Westondale  pull  out?"  he 
asked.  "  He  stopped  here,  did  n't  he  ? " 
This  was  supererogatory,  for  the  tracks  told 
their  own  tale  too  well. 

Malemute  Kid  had  caught  Belden's  eye, 
and  he,  scenting  the  wind,  replied  evasively, 
"  A  right  peart  while  back." 

"  Come,  my  man  ;  speak  up,"  the  police 
man  admonished. 

"Yeh  seem  to  want  him  right  smart.  Hez 
he  ben  gittin'  cantankerous  down  Dawson 
way  ?  " 

"  Held  up  Harry  McFarland's  for  forty 
thousand ;  exchanged  it  at  the  P.  C.  store 
for  a  check  on  Seattle ;  and  who  's  to-  stop  the 
cashing  of  it  if  we  don't  overtake  him  ? 
When  did  he  pull  out  ?  " 

Every  eye  suppressed  its  excitement,  for 
Malemute  Kid  had  given  the  cue,  and  the 


TO  THE  MAN  ON  TRAIL  115 

young  officer  encountered  wooden  faces  on 
every  hand. 

Striding  over  to  Prince,  he  put  the  ques 
tion  to  him.  Though  it  hurt  him,  gazing 
into  the  frank,  earnest  face  of  his  fellow 
countryman,  he  replied  inconsequentially  on 
the  state  of  the  trail. 

Then  he  espied  Father  Koubeau,  who 
could  not  lie.  "  A  quarter  of  an  hour  ago," 
the  priest  answered  ;  "  but  he'  had  four  hours' 
rest  for  himself  and  dogs." 

"  Fifteen  minutes'  start,  and  he  's  fresh ! 
My  God  !  "  The  poor  fellow  staggered  back, 
half  fainting  from  exhaustion  and  disappoint 
ment,  murmuring  something  about  the  run 
from  Dawson  in  ten  hours  and  the  dogs  be 
ing  played  out. 

Malemute  Kid  forced  a  mug  of  punch 
upon  him  ;  then  he  turned  for  the  door,  or 
dering  the  dog-drivers  to  follow.  But  the 
warmth  and  promise  of  rest  were  too  tempt 
ing,  and  they  objected  strenuously.  The  Kid 
was  conversant  with  their  French  patois,  and 
followed  it  anxiously. 

They  swore  that  the  dogs  were  gone  up ; 
that  Siwash  and  Babette  would  have  to  be 
shot  before  the  first  mile  was  covered ;  that 


116  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

the  rest  were  almost  as  bad ;  and  that  it 
would  be  better  for  all  hands  to  rest  up. 

"  Lend  me  five  dogs?"  he  asked,  turning 
to  Malemute  Kid. 

But  the  Kid  shook  his  head. 

"  I  '11  sign  a  check  on  Captain  Constantine 
for  five  thousand,  —  here  's  my  papers, — I'm 
authorized  to  draw  at  my  own  discretion." 

Again  the  silent  refusal. 

"  Then  I  '11  requisition  them  in  the  name 
of  the  Queen." 

Smiling  incredulously,  the  Kid  glanced  at 
his  well-stocked  arsenal,  and  the  Englishman, 
realizing  his  impotency,  turned  for  the  door. 
But  the  dog-drivers  still  objecting,  he  whirled 
upon  them  fiercely,  calling  them  women  and 
curs.  The  swart  face  of  the  older  half-breed 
flushed  angrily,  as  he  drew  himself  up  and 
promised  in  good,  round  terms  that  he  would 
travel  his  leader  off  his  legs,  and  would  then 
be  delighted  to  plant  him  in  the  snow. 

The  young  officer  —  and  it  required  his 
whole  will  —  walked  steadily  to  the  door,  ex 
hibiting  a  freshness  he  did  not  possess.  But 
they  all  knew  and  appreciated  his  proud  ef 
fort  ;  nor  could  he  veil  the  twinges  of  agony 
that  shot  across  his  face.  Covered  with 


TO   THE  MAN  ON  TRAIL  117 

frost,  the  dogs  were  curled  up  in  the  snow, 
and  it  was  almost  impossible  to  get  them  to 
their  feet.  The  poor  brutes  whined  under 
the  stinging  lash,  for  the  dog-drivers  were 
angry  and  cruel ;  nor  till  Babette,  the  leader, 
was  cut  from  the  traces,  could  they  break  out 
the  sled  and  get  under  way. 

"  A  dirty  scoundrel  and  a  liar  !  "  "  By 
gar  !  him  no  good  !  "  "A  thief  !  "  "  Worse 
than  an  Indian  !  "  It  was  evident  that  they 
were  angry  —  first,  at  the  way  they  had  been 
deceived  ;  and  second,  at  the  outraged  ethics 
of  the  Northland,  where  honesty,  above  all, 
was  man's  prime  jewel.  "  An'  we  gave  the 
cuss  a  hand,  after  knowin'  what  he  'd  did." 
All  eyes  were  turned  accusingly  upon  Male- 
mute  Kid,  who  rose  from  the  corner  where 
he  had  been  making  Babette  comfortable, 
and  silently  emptied  the  bowl  for  a  final 
round  of  punch. 

"  It 's  a  cold  night,  boys,  —  a  bitter  cold 
night,"  was  the  irrelevant  commencement  of 
his  defense.  "  You  've  all  traveled  trail,  and 
know  what  that  stands  for.  Don't  jump  a 
dog  when  he 's  down.  You  've  only  heard 
one  side.  A  whiter  man  than  Jack  Weston- 
dale  never  ate  from  the  same  pot  nor  stretched 


118  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

blanket  with  you  or  me.  Last  fall  he  gave 
his  whole  clean-up,  forty  thousand,  to  Joe 
Castrell,  to  buy  in  on  Dominion.  To-day 
he  'd  be  a  millionaire.  But  while  he  stayed 
behind  at  Circle  City,  taking  care  of  his  part 
ner  with  the  scurvy,  what  does  Castrell  do  ? 
Goes  into  McFarland's,  jumps  the  limit,  and 
drops  the  whole  sack.  Found  him  dead  in 
the  snow  the  next  day.  And  poor  Jack  lay 
ing  his  plans  to  go  out  this  winter  to  his  wife 
and  the  boy  he  's  never  seen.  You  '11  notice 
he  took  exactly  what  his  partner  lost,  —  forty 
thousand.  Well,  he  's  gone  out ;  and  what 
are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  " 

The  Kid  glanced  round  the  circle  of  his 
judges,  noted  the  softening  of  their  faces, 
then  raised  his  mug  aloft.  "  So  a  health  to 
the  man  on  trail  this  night ;  may  his  grub 
hold  out ;  may  his  dogs  keep  their  legs ;  may 
his  matches  never  miss  fire.  God  prosper 
him  ;  good  luck  go  with  him  ;  and  " 

"  Confusion  to  the  Mounted  Police! "  cried 
Bettles,  to  the  crash  of  the  empty  cups. 


THE  PRIESTLY  PREROGATIVE 

THIS  is  the  story  of  a  man  who  did  not  ap 
preciate  his  wife ;  also,  of  a  woman  who  did 
him  too  great  an  honor  when  she  gave  her 
self  to  him.  Incidentally,  it  concerns  a  Jesuit 
priest  who  had  never  been  known  to  lie.  He 
was  an  appurtenance,  and  a  very  necessary 
one,  to  the  Yukon  country  ;  but  the  presence 
of  the  other  two  was  merely  accidental.  They 
were  specimens  of  the  many  strange  waifs 
which  ride  the  breast  of  a  gold  rush  or  come 
tailing  along  behind. 

Edwin  Bentham  and  Grace  Bentham  were 
waifs;  they  were  also  tailing  along  behind, 
for  the  Klondike  rush  of  '97  had  long  since 
swept  down  the  great  river  and  subsided  into 
the  famine-stricken  city  of  Dawson.  When 
the  Yukon  shut  up  shop  and  went  to  sleep 
under  a  three-foot  ice-sheet,  this  peripatetic 
couple  found  themselves  at  the  Five  Finger 
Rapids,  with  the  City  of  Gold  still  a  journey 
of  many  sleeps  to  the  north. 

Not  a  few  cattle  had  been  butchered  at  this 


120  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

place  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  and  the  offal 
made  a  goodly  heap.  The  three  fellow  voy- 
ageurs  of  Edwin  Bentham  and  wife  gazed 
upon  this  deposit,  did  a  little  mental  arithmetic, 
caught  a  certain  glimpse  of  a  bonanza,  and 
decided  to  remain.  And  all  winter  they  sold 
sacks  of  bones  and  frozen  hides  to  the  fam 
ished  dog-teams.  It  was  a  modest  price  they 
asked,  a  dollar  a  pound,  just  as  it  came.  Six 
months  later,  when  the  sun  came  back  and 
the  Yukon  awoke,  they  buckled  on  their  heavy 
money-belts  and  journeyed  back  to  the  South 
land,  where  they  yet  live  and  lie  mightily 
about  the  Klondike  they  never  saw. 

But  Edwin  Bentham  —  he  was  an  indolent 
fellow,  and  had  he  not  been  possessed  of  a 
wife,  would  have  gladly  joined  issues  in  the 
dog-meat  speculation.  As  it  was,  she  played 
upon  his  vanity,  told  him  how  great  and 
strong  he  was,  how  a  man  such  as  he  cer 
tainly  was  could  overcome  all  obstacles  and 
of  a  surety  obtain  the  Golden 'Fleece.  So  he 
squared  his  jaw,  sold  his  share  in  the  bones 
and  hides  for  a  sled  and  one  dog,  and  turned 
his  snowshoes  to  the  north.  Needless  to  state, 
Grace  Bentham' s  snowshoes  never  allowed 
his  tracks  to  grow  cold.  Nay,  ere  their  tribu- 


THE   PRIESTLY  PREROGATIVE       121 

lations  had  seen  three  days,  it  was  the  man 
who  followed  in  the  rear,  and  the  woman  who 
broke  trail  in  advance.  Of  course,  if  anybody 
hove  in  sight,  the  position  was  instantly  re 
versed.  Thus  did  his  manhood  remain  virgin 
to  the  travelers  who  passed  like  ghosts  on  the 
silent  trail.  There  are  such  men  in  this  world. 

How  such  a  man  and  such  a  woman  came 
to  take  each  other  for  better  and  for  worse  is 
unimportant  to  this  narrative.  These  things 
are  familiar  to  us  all,  and  those  people  who 
do  them,  or  even  question  them  too  closely, 
are  apt  to  lose  a  beautiful  faith  which  is  known 
as  Eternal  Fitness. 

Edwin  Bentham  was  a  boy,  thrust  by  mis 
chance  into  a  man's  body,  —  a  boy  who  could 
complacently  pluck  a  butterfly,  wing  from 
wing,  or  cower  in  abject  terror  before  a  lean, 
nervy  fellow,  not  half  his  size.  He  was  a 
selfish  cry-baby,  hidden  behind  a  man's  mus 
tache  and  stature,  and  glossed  over  with  a 
skin-deep  veneer  of  culture  and  conventional 
ity.  Yes ;  he  was  a  clubman  and  a  society 
man,  —  the  sort  that  grace  social  functions 
and  utter  inanities  with  a  charm  and  unction 
which  are  indescribable;  the  sort  that  talk 
big,  and  cry  over  a  toothache ;  the  sort  that 


122  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

put  more  hell  into  a  woman's  life  by  marrying 
her  than  can  the  most  graceless  libertine  that 
ever  browsed  in  forbidden  pastures.  We  meet 
these  men  every  day,  but  we  rarely  know  them 
for  what  they  are.  Second  to  marrying  them, 
the  best  way  to  get  this  knowledge  is  to  eat 
out  of  the  same  pot  and  crawl  under  the  same 
blanket  with  them  for  —  well,  say  a  week  ;  no 
greater  margin  is  necessary. 

To  see  Grace  Bentham  was  to  see  a  slender, 
girlish  creature ;  to  know  her  was  to  know  a 
soul  which  dwarfed  one's  own,  yet  retained  all 
the  elements  of  the  eternal  feminine.  This  was 
the  woman  who  urged  and  encouraged  her 
husband  in  his  Northland  quest,  who  broke 
trail  for  him  when  no  one  was  looking,  and 
cried  in  secret  over  her  weakling  woman's  body. 

So  journeyed  this  strangely  assorted  couple 
down  to  old  Fort  Selkirk,  then  through  five 
score  miles  of  dismal  wilderness  to  Stuart  River. 
And  when  the  short  day  left  them,  and  the 
man  lay  down  in  the  snow  and  blubbered,  it 
was  the  woman  who  lashed  him  to  the  sled, 
bit  her  lips  with  the  pain  of  her  aching  limbs, 
and  helped  the  dog  haul  him  to  Malemute 
Kid's  cabin.  Malemute  Kid  was  not  at  home, 
but  Meyers,  the  German  trader,  cooked  great 


THE   PRIESTLY   PREROGATIVE       123 

moose-steaks  and  shook  up  a  bed  of  fresh  pine 
boughs. 

Lake,  Langham,  and  Parker  were  excited, 
and  not  unduly  so  when  the  cause  was  taken 
into  account. 

"  Oh,  Sandy  !  Say,  can  you  tell  a  porter 
house  from  a  round  ?  Come  out  and  lend  us 
a  hand,  anyway  ! "  This  appeal  emanated 
from  the  cache,  where  Langham  was  vainly 
struggling  with  divers  quarters  of  frozen 
moose. 

"  Don't  you  budge  from  those  dishes  !  " 
commanded  Parker. 

"  I  say,  Sandy  —  there  's  a  good  fellow  — 
just  run  down  to  the  Missouri  Camp  and  bor 
row  some  cinnamon,"  begged  Lake. 

"Oh!    oh!    hurry    up!     Why    don't "- 
But  the  crash  of  meat  and  boxes,  in  the  cache, 
abruptly  quenched  this  peremptory  summons. 

"  Come  now,  Sandy  ;  it  won't  take  a  minute 
to  go  down  to  the  Missouri "  — 

"  You  leave  him  alone,"  interrupted  Parker. 
"  How  am  I  to  mix  the  biscuits  if  the  table 
is  n't  cleared  off?" 

Sandy  paused  in  indecision,  till  suddenly 
the  fact  that  he  was  Langham' s  "  man  " 


124  THE  SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

dawned  upon  him.  Then  he  apologetically 
threw  down  the  greasy  dishcloth,  and  went  to 
his  master's  rescue. 

These  promising  scions  of  wealthy  progeni 
tors  had  come  to  the  Northland  in  search  of 
laurels,  with  much  money  to  burn,  and  a 
"  man  "  apiece.  Luckily  for  their  souls,  the 
other  two  men  were  up  the  White  River  in 
search  of  a  mythical  quartz-ledge ;  so  Sandy 
had  to  grin  under  the  responsibility  of  three 
healthy  masters,  each  of  whom  was  possessed 
of  peculiar  cookery  ideas.  Twice  that  morn 
ing  had  a  disruption  of  the  whole  camp  been 
imminent,  only  averted  by  immense  conces 
sions  from  one  or  the  other  of  these  knights 
of  the  chafing-dish.  But  at  last  their  mutual 
creation,  a  really  dainty  dinner,  was  completed. 
Then  they  sat  down  to  a  three-cornered  game 
of  "  cut-throat,"  -  a  proceeding  which  did 
away  with  all  casus  belli  for  future  hostilities, 
and  permitted  the  victor  to  depart  on  a  most 
important  mission. 

This  fortune  fell  to  Parker,  who  parted  his 
hair  in  the  middle,  put  on  his  mittens  and 
bear-skin  cap,  and  stepped  over  to  Malemute 
Kid's  cabin.  And  when  he  returned,  it  was 
in  the  company  of  Grace  Bentham  and  Male- 


THE  PRIESTLY   PREROGATIVE       125 

mute  Kid,  —  the  former  very  sorry  her  husband 
could  not  share  with  her  their  hospitality,  for 
he  had  gone  up  to  look  at  the  Henderson 
Creek  mines,  and  the  latter  still  a  trifle  stiff 
from  breaking  trail  down  the  Stuart  River. 
Meyers  had  been  asked,  but  had  declined,  be 
ing  deeply  engrossed  in  an  experiment  of 
raising  bread  from  hops. 

Well,  they  could  do  without  the  husband ; 
but  a  woman  —  why,  they  had  not  seen  one 
all  winter,  and  the  presence  of  this  one  pro 
mised  a  new  hegira  in  their  lives.  They  were 
college  men  and  gentlemen,  these  three  young 
fellows,  yearning  for  the  flesh-pots  they  had 
been  so  long  denied.  Probably  Grace  Ben- 
tham  suffered  from  a  similar  hunger ;  at  least, 
it  meant  much  to  her,  the  first  bright  hour  in 
many  weeks  of  darkness. 

But  that  wonderful  first  course,  which 
claimed  the  versatile  Lake  for  its  parent,  had 
no  sooner  been  served  than  there  came  a  loud 
knock  at  the  door. 

"  Oh  !  Ah  !  Won't  you  come  in,  Mr.  Ben- 
tham  ?  "  said  Parker,  who  had  stepped  to  see 
who  the  newcomer  might  be. 

"  Is  my  wife  here  ?  "  gruffly  responded  that 
worthy. 


126  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

"Why,  yes.  We  left  word  with  Mr. 
Meyers."  Parker  was  exerting  his  most  dul 
cet  tones,  inwardly  wondering  what  the  deuce 
it  all  meant.  "  Won't  you  come  in  ?  Expect 
ing  you  at  any  moment,  we  reserved  a  place. 
And  just  in  time  for  the  first  course,  too." 

"  Come  in,  Edwin,  dear,"  chirped  Grace 
Bentham  from  her  seat  at  the  table. 

Parker  naturally  stood  aside. 

"  I  want  my  wife,"  reiterated  Bentham 
hoarsely,  the  intonation  savoring  disagreeably 
of  ownership. 

Parker  gasped,  was  within  an  ace  of  driv 
ing  his  fist  into  the  face  of  his  boorish  visitor, 
but  held  himself  awkwardly  in  check.  Every 
body  rose.  Lake  lost  his  head  and  caught 
himself  on  the  verge  of  saying,  "  Must  you 
go?" 

Then  began  the  farrago  of  leave-taking. 
"So  nice  of  you" —  "Awfully  sorry"  — 
"  By  Jove  !  how  things  did  brighten  "  — 
"  Really  now,  you  "  —  "  Thank  you  ever  so 
much  "  "  Nice  trip  to  Dawson  "  -  etc. 

In  this  wise  the  lamb  was  helped  into  her 
jacket  and  led  to  the  slaughter.  Then  the 
door  slammed,  and  they  gazed  woefully  upon 
the  deserted  table. 


THE  PRIESTLY   PREROGATIVE       127 

"  Damn  !  "  Langham  had  suffered  dis 
advantages  in  his  early  training,  and  his  oaths 
were  weak  and  monotonous.  "  Damn  !  "  he 
repeated,  vaguely  conscious  of  the  incom 
pleteness  and  vainly  struggling  for  a  more 
virile  term. 

It  is  a  clever  woman  who  can  fill  out  the 
many  weak  places  in  an  inefficient  man,  by 
her  own  indomitability  reinforce  his  vacil 
lating  nature,  infuse  her  ambitious  soul  into 
his,  and  spur  him  on  to  great  achievements. 
And  it  is  indeed  a  very  clever  and  tactful 
woman  who  can  do  all  this,  and  do  it  so  subtly 
that  the  man  receives  all  the  credit  and  be 
lieves  in  his  inmost  heart  that  everything  is 
due  to  him  and  him  alone. 

This  is  what  Grace  Bentham  proceeded  to 
do.  Arriving  in  Dawson  with  a  few  pounds 
of  flour  and  several  letters  of  introduction, 
she  at  once  applied  herself  to  the  task  of 
pushing  her  big  baby  to  the  fore.  It  was 
she  who  melted  the  stony  heart  and  wrung 
credit  from  the  rude  barbarian  who  presided 
over  the  destiny  of  the  P.  C.  Company ;  yet 
it  was  Edwin  Bentham  to  whom  the  conces 
sion  was  ostensibly  granted.  It  was  she  who 


128  THE   SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

dragged  her  baby  up  and  down  creeks,  over 
benches  and  divides,  and  on  a  dozen  wild 
stampedes ;  yet  everybody  remarked  what  an 
energetic  fellow  that  Bentham  was.  It  was 
she  who  studied  maps,  and  catechised  miners, 
and  hammered  geography  and  locations  into 
his  hollow  head,  till  everybody  marveled  at 
his  broad  grasp  of  the  country  and  knowledge 
of  its  conditions.  Of  course,  they  said  the 
wife  was  a  brick,  and  only  a  few  wise  ones 
appreciated  and  pitied  her. 

She  did  the  work ;  he  got  the  credit  and 
reward.  In  the  Northwest  Territory  a  mar 
ried  woman  cannot  stake  or  record  a  creek, 
bench,  or  quartz  claim  ;  so  Edwin  Bentham 
went  down  to  the  Gold  Commissioner  and 
filed  on  Bench  Claim  23,  second  tier,  of 
French  Hill.  And  when  April  came  they 
were  washing  out  a  thousand  dollars  a  day, 
with  many,  many  such  days  in  prospect. 

At  the  base  of  French  Hill  lay  Eldorado 
Creek,  and  on  a  creek  claim  stood  the  cabin 
of  Clyde  Wharton.  At  present  he  was  not 
washing  out  a  diurnal  thousand  dollars ;  but 
his  dumps  grew,  shift  by  shift,  and  there 
would  come  a  time  when  those  dumps  would 
pass  through  his  sluice-boxes,  depositing  in 


THE   PRIESTLY  PREROGATIVE       129 

the  riffles,  in  the  course  of  half  a  dozen  days, 
several  hundred  thousand  dollars.  He  often 
sat  in  that  cabin,  smoked  his  pipe,  and 
dreamed  beautiful  little  dreams,  —  dreams  in 
which  neither  the  dumps  nor  the  half-ton  of 
dust  in  the  P.  C.  Company's  big  safe  played 
a  part. 

And  Grace  Bentham,  as  she  washed  tin 
dishes  in  her  hillside  cabin,  often  glanced 
down  into  Eldorado  Creek,  and  dreamed,  — 
not  of  dumps  nor  dust,  however.  They  met 
frequently,  as  the  trail  to  the  one  claim 
crossed  the  other,  and  there  is  much  to  talk 
about  in  the  Northland  spring ;  but  never 
once,  by  the  light  of  an  eye  nor  the  slip  of  a 
tongue,  did  they  speak  their  hearts. 

This  is  as  it  was  at  first.  But  one  day 
Edwin  Bentham  was  brutal.  All  boys  are 
thus ;  besides,  being  a  French  Hill  king  now, 
he  began  to  think  a  great  deal  of  himself  and 
to  forget  all  he  owed  to  his  wife.  On  this 
day,  Wharton  heard  of  it,  and  waylaid  Grace 
Bentham,  and  talked  wildly.  This  made  her 
very  happy,  though  she  would  not  listen,  and 
made  him  promise  to  not  say  such  things 
again.  Her  hour  had  not  come. 

But   the    sun  swept  back  on  its  northern 


130  THE  SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

journey,  the  black  of  midnight  changed  to 
the  steely  color  of  dawn,  the  snow  slipped 
away,  the  water  dashed  again  over  the  glacial 
drift,  and  the  wash-up  began.  Day  and  night 
the  yellow  clay  and  scraped  bed-rock  hurried 
through  the  swift  sluices,  yielding  up  its  ran 
som  to  the  strong  men  from  the  Southland. 
And  in  that  time  of  tumult  came  Grace  Ben- 
tham's  hour. 

To  all  of  us  such  hours  at  some  time  come, 

-  that  is,  to  us  who  are  not  too  phlegmatic. 

Some  people  are  good,  not  from  inherent  love 

of  virtue,  but  from  sheer  laziness.     Those  of 

us  who  know  weak  moments  may  understand. 

Edwin  Bentham  was  weighing  dust  over 
the  bar  of  the  saloon  at  the  Forks  —  alto 
gether  too  much  of  his  dust  went  over  that 
pine  board — when  his  wife  came  down  the 
hill  and  slipped  into  Clyde  Wharton's  cabin. 
W barton  was  not  expecting  her,  but  that 
did  not  alter  the  case.  And  much  subsequent 
misery  and  idle  waiting  might  have  been 
avoided,  had  not  Father  Roubeau  seen  this 
and  turned  aside  from  the  main  creek  trail. 

"My  child"  — 

"  Hold   on,    Father    Roubeau  !      Though 


THE  PRIESTLY  PREROGATIVE        131 

I  'm  not  of  your  faith,  I  respect  you ;  but 
you  can't  come  in  between  this  woman  and 
me!" 

"  You  know  what  you  are  doing  ?  " 

"  Know  !  Were  you  God  Almighty,  ready 
to  fling  me  into  eternal  fire,  I  'd  bank  my  will 
against  yours  in  this  matter." 

Wharton  had  placed  Grace  on  a  stool  and 
stood  belligerently  before  her. 

"  You  sit  down  on  that  chair  and  keep 
quiet/'  he  continued,  addressing  the  Jesuit. 
"  I  '11  take  my  innings  now.  You  can  have 
yours  after." 

Father  Eoubeau  bowed  courteously  and 
obeyed.  He  was  an  easy-going  man  and  had 
learned  to  bide  his  time.  Wharton  pulled  a 
stool  alongside  the  woman's,  smothering  her 
hand  in  his. 

"  Then  you  do  care  for  me,  and  will  take 
me  away  ?  " 

Her  face  seemed  to  reflect  the  peace  of 
this  man,  against  whom  she  might  draw  close 
for  shelter. 

"Dear,  don't  you  remember  what  I  said 
before  ?  Of  course  I  "  — 

"  But  how  can  you  ?  —  the  wash-up  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  that   worries  ?     Anyway, 


132  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

I  '11  give  the  job  to  Father  Roubeau,  here.  I 
can  trust  him  to  safely  bank  the  dust  with 
the  company." 

"To  think  of  it!  —  I'll  never  see  him 
again." 

"  A  blessing  !  " 

"  And  to  go  —  Oh,  Clyde,  I  can't !  I 
can't!" 

"  There,  there ;  of  course  you  can.  Just 
let  me  plan  it.  You  see,  as  soon  as  we  get 
a  few  traps  together,  we  '11  start,  and  "  — 

"  Suppose  he  comes  back  ?  " 

"  I  '11  break  every  "  — 

"  No,  no  !  No  fighting,  Clyde  !  Promise 
me  that." 

"  All  right !  I  '11  just  tell  the  men  to  throw 
him  off  the  claim.  They  've  seen  how  he  's 
treated  you,  and  have  n't  much  love  for  him." 

"  You  must  n't  do  that.  You  must  n't 
hurt  him." 

"  What  then  ?  Let  him  come  right  in  here 
and  take  you  away  before  my  eyes?" 

"  No-o,"  she  half  whispered,  stroking  his 
hand  softly. 

"  Then  let  me  run  it,  and  don't  worry. 
I  '11  see  he  does  n't  get  hurt.  Precious  lot 
he  cared  whether  you  got  hurt  or  not !  We 


THE   PRIESTLY  PREROGATIVE       133 

won't  go  back  to  Dawson.  I'll  send  word 
down  for  a  couple  of  the  boys  to  outfit  and 
pole  a  boat  up  the  Yukon.  We  '11  cross  the 
divide  and  raft  down  the  Indian  Kiver  to 
meet  them.  Then  "  — 

"And  then?" 

Her  head  was  on  his  shoulder.  Their 
voices  sank  to  softer  cadences,  each  word  a 
caress.  The  Jesuit  fidgeted  nervously. 

"  And  then  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"  Why,  we  '11  pole  up,  and  up,  and  up,  and 
portage  the  White  Horse  Rapids  and  the 
Box  Canon." 

"Yes?" 

"  And  the  Sixty-Mile  River ;  then  the 
lakes,  Chilcoot,  Dyea,  and  Salt  Water." 

"  But,  dear,  I  can't  pole  a  boat." 

"  You  little  goose  !  I  '11  get  Sitka  Char 
ley  ;  he  knows  all  the  good  water  and  best 
camps,  and  he  is  the  best  traveler  I  ever  met, 
if  he  is  an  Indian.  All  you  '11  have  to  do,  is 
to  sit  in  the  middle  of  the  boat,  and  sing 
songs,  and  play  Cleopatra,  and  fight  —  no, 
we  're  in  luck  ;  too  early  for  mosquitoes." 

"  And  then,  0  my  Antony  ?  " 

"  And  then  a  steamer,  San  Francisco,  and 
the  world  !  Never  to  come  back  to  this  cursed 


134  THE  SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

hole  again.  Think  of  it !  The  world,  and 
ours  to  choose  from !  I  '11  sell  out.  Why, 
we  're  rich  !  The  Waldworth  Syndicate  will 
give  me  half  a  million  for  what 's  left  in  the 
ground,  and  I  've  got  twice  as  much  in  the 
dumps  and  with  the  P.  C.  Company.  We  '11 
go  to  the  Fair  in  Paris  in  1900.  We  '11  go  to 
Jerusalem,  if  you  say  so.  We  '11  buy  an 
Italian  palace,  and  you  can  play  Cleopatra  to 
your  heart's  content.  No,  you  shall  be  Lu- 
cretia,  Acte,  or  anybody  your  little  heart  sees 
fit  to  become.  But  you  must  n't,  you  really 
must  n't "  — 

"  The  wife  of  Caesar  shall  be  above  re 
proach." 

"  Of  course,  but  "  — 

"  But  I  won't  be  your  wife,  will  I,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  mean  that." 

"  But  you  '11  love  me  just  as  much,  and 
never  even  think  —  oh!  I  know  you'll  be 
like  other  men ;  you  '11  grow  tired,  and  — 
and"  — 

"How  can  you?     I"  — 

"  Promise  me." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  do  promise." 

"  You  say  it  so  easily,  dear ;  but  how  do 
you  know? — or  I  know?  I  have  so  little 


THE   PRIESTLY   PREROGATIVE       135 

to  give,  yet  it  is  so  much.  Oh,  Clyde !  promise 
me  you  won't  ?  " 

"  There,  there  !  You  must  n't  begin  to 
doubt  already.  Till  death  do  us  part,  you 
know." 

"  Think !  I  once  said  that  to  —  to  him, 
and  now?" 

"And  now,  little  sweetheart,  you're  not 
to  bother  about  such  things  any  more.  Of 
course,  I  never,  never  will,  and  "  — 

And  for  the  first  time,  lips  trembled  against 
lips.  Father  Roubeau  had  been  watching  the 
main  trail  through  the  window,  but  could 
stand  the  strain  no  longer.  He  cleared  his 
throat  and  turned  around. 

"  Your  turn  now,  Father  !  "  Wharton's 
face  was  flushed  with  the  fire  of  his  first  em 
brace.  There  was  an  exultant  ring  to  his 
voice  as  he  abdicated  in  the  other's  favor. 
He  had  no  doubt  as  to  the  result.  Neither 
had  Grace,  for  a  smile  played  about  her 
mouth  as  she  faced  the  priest. 

"  My  child,"  he  began,  "  my  heart  bleeds 
for  you.  It  is  a  pretty  dream,  but  it  cannot 
be." 

"  And  why,  Father  ?     I  have  said  yes." 

"  You  knew  not  what  you  did.     You  did 


136  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

not  think  of  the  oath  you  took,  before  your 
God,  to  that  man  who  is  your  husband.  It 
remains  for  me  to  make  you  realize  the  sanc 
tity  of  such  a  pledge." 

"And  if  I  do  realize,  and  yet  refuse?" 

" Then  God" - 

"Which  God?  My  husband  has  a  God 
which  I  care  not  to  worship.  There  must  be 
many  such." 

"  Child  !  unsay  those  words  !  Ah  !  you  do 
not  mean  them.  I  understand.  I,  too,  have 
had  such  moments."  For  an  instant  he  was 
back  in  his  native  France,  and  a  wistful,  sad- 
eyed  face  came  as  a  mist  between  him  and 
the  woman  before  him. 

"  Then,  Father,  has  my  God  forsaken  me  ? 
I  am  not  wicked  above  women.  My  misery 
with  him  has  been  great.  Why  should  it  be 
greater?  Why  shall  I  not  grasp  at  happi 
ness  ?  I  cannot,  will  not,  go  back  to  him  !  " 

"  Rather  is  your  God  forsaken.  Return. 
Throw  your  burden  upon  Him,  and  the  dark 
ness  shall  be  lifted.  Oh,  my  child  "  — 

"  No ;  it  is  useless ;  I  have  made  my  bed 
and  so  shall  I  lie.  I  will  go  on.  And  if  God 
punishes  me,  I  shall  bear  it  somehow.  You 
do  not  understand.  You  are  not  a  woman." 


THE   PRIESTLY   PREROGATIVE       137 

"  My  mother  was  a  woman." 

"But"  — 

"  And  Christ  was  born  of  woman." 

She  did  not  answer.  A  silence  fell.  Whar- 
ton  pulled  his  mustache  impatiently  and  kept 
an  eye  on  the  trail.  Grace  leaned  her  elbow 
on  the  table,  her  face  set  with  resolve.  The 
smile  had  died  away.  Father  Eoubeau  shifted 
his  ground. 

"  You  have  children  ?  " 

"  At  one  time  I  wished  —  but  now  —  no. 
And  I  am  thankful." 

"And  a  mother?" 

"Yes." 

"She  loves  you?" 

"  Yes."     Her  replies  were  whispers. 

"  And  a  brother  ?  —  no  matter,  he  is  a 
man.  But  a  sister?" 

Her  head  drooped  a  quavering  yes. 

"  Younger  ?     Very  much  ?  " 

"  Seven  years." 

"  And  you  have  thought  well  about  this 
matter  ?  About  them  ?  About  your  mother  ? 
And  your  sister  ?  She  stands  on  the  thresh 
old  of  her  woman's  life,  and  this  wildness  of 
yours  may  mean  much  to  her.  Could  you  go 
before  her,  look  upon  her  fresh  young  face, 


138  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

hold  her  hand  in  yours,  or  touch  your  cheek 
to  hers?" 

To  his  words,  her  brain  formed  vivid  im 
ages,  till  she  cried  out,  "  Don't !  don't !  "  and 
shrank  away  as  do  the  wolf-dogs  from  the  lash. 

"  But  you  must  face  all  this ;  and  better  it 
is  to  do  it  now." 

In  his  eyes,  which  she  could  not  see,  there 
was  a  great  compassion,  but  his  face,  tense 
and  quivering,  showed  no  relenting.  She 
raised  her  head  from  the  table,  forced  back 
the  tears,  struggled  for  control. 

"  I  shall  go  away.  They  will  never  see 
me,  and  come  to  forget  me.  I  shall  be  to 
them  as  dead.  And  —  and  I  will  go  with 
Clyde  —  to-day." 

It  seemed  final.  Wharton  stepped  for 
ward,  but  the  priest  waved  him  back. 

"  You  have  wished  for  children  ?  " 

A  silent  yes. 

"  And  prayed  for  them  ?  " 

"Often." 

"  And  have  you  thought,  if  you  should 
have  children?"  Father  Roubeau's  eyes 
rested  for  a  moment  on  the  man  by  the 
window. 

A  quick  light  shot  across  her  face.     Then 


THE  PRIESTLY  PREROGATIVE       139 

the  full  import  dawned  upon  her.  She  raised 
her  hand  appealingly,  but  he  went  on. 

"  Can  you  picture  an  innocent  babe  in 
your  arms  ?  A  boy  ?  The  world  is  not  so 
hard  upon  a  girl.  Why,  your  very  breast 
would  turn  to  gall !  And  you  could  be  proud 
and  happy  of  your  boy,  as  you  looked  on 
other  children  ?  "  — 

"  Oh,  have  pity  !     Hush !  " 

"  A  scapegoat  "  — 

"  Don't !  don't !  I  will  go  back  !  "  She 
was  at  his  feet. 

"  A  child  to  grow  up  with  no  thought  of 
evil,  and  one  day  the  world  to  fling  a  tender 
name  in  his  face  !  " 

"Omy  God!  my  God!" 

She  groveled  on  the  floor.  The  priest 
sighed  and  raised  her  to  her  feet.  Wharton 
pressed  forward,  but  she  motioned  him  away. 

"  Don't  come  near  me,  Clyde  !  I  am  going 
back  ! "  The  tears  were  coursing  pitifully 
down  her  face,  but  she  made  no  effort  to  wipe 
them  away. 

"  After  all  this  ?  You  cannot !  I  will  not 
let  you ! " 

"  Don't  touch  me ! "  She  shivered  and 
drew  back. 


140  THE   SON   OF   THE  WOLF 

"  I  will !  You  are  mine  !  Do  you  hear  ? 
You  are  mine !  "  Then  he  whirled  upon  the 
priest.  "  Oh,  what  a  fool  I  was  to  ever  let  you 
wag  your  silly  tongue  !  Thank  your  God  you 
are  not  a  common  man,  for  I  'd  —  But  the 
priestly  prerogative  must  be  exercised,  eh  ? 
Well,  you  have  exercised  it.  Now  get  out  of 
my  house,  or  I  '11  forget  who  and  what  you 
are  ! " 

Father  Roubeau  bowed,  took  her  hand, 
and  started  for  the  door.  But  Wharton  cut 
them  off. 

"  Grace  !     You  said  you  loved  me  ?  " 

"I  did." 

"  And  you  do  now?  " 

« I  do." 

"Say  it  again." 

"  I  do  love  you,  Clyde ;  I  do." 

"  There,  you  priest !  "  he  cried.  "  You 
have  heard  it,  and  with  those  words  on  her 
lips  you  would  send  her  back  to  live  a  lie  and 
a  hell  with  that  man  ?  " 

But  Father  Roubeau  whisked  the  woman 
into  the  inner  room  and  closed  the  door.  "  No 
words  ! "  he  whispered  to  Wharton,  as  he 
struck  a  casual  posture  on  a  stool.  "  Remem 
ber,  for  her  sake,"  he  added. 


THE   PRIESTLY   PREROGATIVE       141 

The  room  echoed  to  a  rough  knock  at  the 
door ;  then  the  latch  raised  and  Edwin  Ben- 
tham  stepped  in. 

"  Seen  anything  of  my  wife  ?  "  he  asked, 
as  soon  as  salutations  had  been  exchanged. 

Two  heads  nodded  negatively. 

"  I  saw  her  tracks  down  from  the  cabin/' 
he  continued  tentatively,  "  and  they  broke  off, 
just  opposite  here,  on  the  main  trail." 

His  listeners  looked  bored. 

"  And  I  —  I  thought"  — 

"  She  was  here  ! "  thundered  Wharton. 

The  priest  silenced  him  with  a  look.  "  Did 
you  see  her  tracks  leading  up  to  this  cabin, 
my  son  ?  "  Wily  Father  Roubeau  —  he  had 
taken  good  care  to  obliterate  them  as  he  came 
up  the  same  path  an  hour  before. 

"  I  did  n't  stop  to  look,  I  "  —  His  eyes 
rested  suspiciously  on  the  door  to  the  other 
room,  then  interrogated  the  priest.  The  latter 
shook  his  head;  but  the  doubt  seemed  to 
linger. 

Father  Roubeau  breathed  a  swift,  silent 
prayer,  and  rose  to  his  feet.  "  If  you  doubt 
me,  why  "  —  He  made  as  though  to  open 
the  door. 

A  priest  could  not  lie.     Edwin  Bentham 


142  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

had  heard  this  often,  and  believed  it.  "  Of 
course  not,  Father,"  he  interposed  hurriedly. 
"  I  was  only  wondering  where  my  wife  had 
gone,  and  thought  maybe  —  I  guess  she 's  up 
at  Mrs.  Stanton's  on  French  Gulch.  Nice 
weather,  is  n't  it  ?  Heard  the  news  ?  Flour 's 
gone  down  to  forty  dollars  a  hundred,  and 
they  say  the  che-cha-quas  are  flocking  down 
the  river  in  droves.  But  I  must  be  going; 
so  good-by." 

The  door  slammed,  and  from  the  window 
they  watched  him  take  his  quest  up  French 
Gulch. 

A  few  weeks  later,  just  after  the  June 
high-water,  two  men  shot  a  canoe  into  mid 
stream  and  made  fast  to  a  derelict  pine.  This 
tightened  the  painter  and  jerked  the  frail 
craft  along  as  would  a  tow-boat.  Father  Ron- 
beau  had  been  directed  to  leave  the  Upper 
Country  and  return  to  his  swarthy  children 
at  Minook.  The  white  men  had  come  among 
them,  and  they  were  devoting  too  little  time  to 
fishing,  and  too  much  to  a  certain  deity  whose 
transient  habitat  was  in  countless  black  bot 
tles.  Malemute  Kid  also  had  business  in  the 
Lower  Country,  so  they  journeyed  together. 


THE   PRIESTLY  PREROGATIVE       143 

But  one,  in  all  the  Northland,  knew  the 
man  Paul  Roubeau,  and  that  man  was  Male- 
mute  Kid.  Before  him  alone  did  the  priest 
cast  off  the  sacerdotal  garb  and  stand  naked. 
And  why  not  ?  These  two  men  knew  each 
other.  Had  they  not  shared  the  last  morsel 
of  fish,  the  last  pinch  of  tobacco,  the  last 
and  inmost  thought,  on  the  barren  stretches 
of  Bering  Sea,  in  the  heart-breaking  mazes 
of  the  Great  Delta,  on  the  terrible  winter 
journey  from  Point  Barrow  to  the  Porcu 
pine? 

Father  Roubeau  puffed  heavily  at  his  trail- 
worn  pipe,  and  gazed  on  the  red-disked  sun, 
poised  sombrely  on  the  edge  of  the  northern 
horizon.  Malemute  Kid  wound  up  his  watch. 
It  was  midnight. 

"  Cheer  up,  old  man  ! "  The  Kid  was 
evidently  gathering  up  a  broken  thread. 
"  God  surely  will  forgive  such  a  lie.  Let  me 
give  you  the  word  of  a  man  who  strikes  a 
true  note  :  — 

" « If  She  have  spoken  a  word,  remember  thy  lips  are  sealed, 
And  the  brand  of  the  Dog  is  upon  him   by  whom  is  the 

secret  revealed. 
If  there  be  trouble  to  Herward,  and  a  lie  of  the  blackest 

can  clear, 
Lie,  while  thy  lips  can  move  or  a  man  is  alive  to  hear.' " 


144  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

Father  Roubeau  removed  his  pipe  and  re 
flected.  "  The  man  speaks  true,  but  my  soul 
is  not  vexed  with  that.  The  lie  and  the  pen 
ance  stand  with  God  ;  but  —  but  "  — 

"  What  then  ?     Your  hands  are  clean." 

"Not  so.  Kid,  I  have  thought  much, 
and  yet  the  thing  remains.  I  knew,  and  I 
made  her  go  back." 

The  clear  note  of  a  robin  rang  out  from 
the  wooded  bank,  a  partridge  drummed  the 
call  in  the  distance,  a  moose  lunged  noisily 
in  an  eddy,  but  the  twain  smoked  on  in 
silence. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  TRAIL 

SITKA  CHARLEY  had  achieved  the  impos 
sible.  Other  Indians  might  have  known  as 
much  of  the  wisdom  of  the  trail  as  did  he ; 
but  he  alone  knew  the  white  man's  wisdom, 
the  honor  of  the  trail,  and  the  law.  But 
these  things  had  not  come  to  him  in  a  day. 
The  aboriginal  mind  is  slow  to  generalize, 
and  many  facts,  repeated  often,  are  required 
to  compass  an  understanding.  Sitka  Charley, 
from  boyhood,  had  been  thrown  continually 
with  white  men,  and  as  a  man  he  had  elected 
to  cast  his  fortunes  with  them,  expatriating 
himself,  once  and  for  all,  from  his  own 
people.  Even  then,  respecting,  almost  vener 
ating  their  power,  and  pondering  over  it,  he 
had  yet  to  divine  its  secret  essence  —  the 
honor  and  the  law.  And  it  was  only  by  the 
cumulative  evidence  of  years  that  he  had 
finally  come  to  understand.  Being  an  alien, 
when  he  did  know  he  knew  it  better  than 
the  white  man  himself ;  being  an  Indian,  he 
had  achieved  the  impossible. 


146  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

And  of  these  things  had  been  bred  a  cer 
tain  contempt  for  his  own  people,  —  a  con 
tempt  which  he  had  made  it  a  custom  to  con 
ceal,  but  which  now  burst  forth  in  a  polyglot 
whirlwind  of  curses  upon  the  heads  of  Kah- 
Chucte  and  Gowhee.  They  cringed  before 
him  like  a  brace  of  snarling  wolf-dogs,  too 
cowardly  to  spring,  too  wolfish  to  cover  their 
fangs.  They  were  not  handsome  creatures. 
Neither  was  Sitka  Charley.  All  three  were 
frightful-looking.  There  was  no  flesh  to 
their  faces  ;  their  cheek  bones  were  massed 
with  hideous  scabs  which  had  cracked  and 
frozen  alternately  under  the  intense  frost ; 
while  their  eyes  burned  luridly  with  the  light 
which  is  born  of  desperation  and  hunger. 
Men  so  situated,  beyond  the  pale  of  the 
honor  and  the  law,  are  not  to  be  trusted. 
Sitka  Charley  knew  this ;  and  this  was  why 
he  had  forced  them  to  abandon  their  rifles 
with  the  rest  of  the  camp  outfit  ten  days  be 
fore.  His  rifle  and  Captain  Eppingwell's  were 
the  only  ones  that  remained. 

"  Come,  get  a  fire  started,"  he  commanded, 
drawing  out  the  precious  match  box  with  its 
attendant  strips  of  dry  birch  bark. 

The  two  Indians  fell  sullenly  to  the  task 


THE   WISDOM   OF   THE   TRAIL        147 

of  gathering  dead  branches  and  underwood. 
They  were  weak,  and  paused  often,  catching 
themselves,  in  the  act  of  stooping,  with  giddy 
motions,  or  staggering  to  the  centre  of  opera 
tions  with  their  knees  shaking  like  castanets. 
After  each  trip  they  rested  for  a  moment,  as 
though  sick  and  deadly  weary.  At  times 
their  eyes  took  on  the  patient  stoicism  of 
dumb  suffering ;  and  again  the  ego  seemed 
almost  bursting  forth  with  its  wild  cry,  "  I, 
I,  I  want  to  exist ! "  — the  dominant  note  of 
the  whole  living  universe. 

A  light  breath  of  air  blew  from  the 
south,  nipping  the  exposed  portions  of  their 
bodies  and  driving  the  frost,  in  needles  of 
fire,  through  fur  and  flesh  to  the  bones.  So, 
when  the  fire  had  grown  lusty  and  thawed  a 
damp  circle  in  the  snow  about  it,  Sitka  Char 
ley  forced  his  reluctant  comrades  to  lend  a 
hand  in  pitching  a  fly.  It  was  a  primitive  af 
fair,  —  merely  a  blanket,  stretched  parallel 
with  the  fire  and  to  windward  of  it,  at  an  angle 
of  perhaps  forty-five  degrees.  This  shut  out 
the  chill  wind,  and  threw  the  heat  backward 
and  down  upon  those  who  were  to  huddle  in 
its  shelter.  Then  a  layer  of  green  spruce 
boughs  was  spread,  that  their  bodies  might 


148  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

not  come  in  contact  with  the  snow.  When 
this  task  was  completed,  Kah-Chucte  and 
Gowhee  proceeded  to  take  care  of  their  feet. 
Their  ice-bound  moccasins  were  sadly  worn 
by  much  travel,  and  the  sharp  ice  of  the 
river  jams  had  cut  them  to  rags.  Their  Si- 
wash  socks  were  similarly  conditioned,  and 
when  these  had  been  thawed  and  removed, 
the  dead-white  tips  of  the  toes,  in  the  various 
stages  of  mortification,  told  their  simple  tale 
of  the  trail. 

Leaving  the  two  to  the  drying  of  their  foot 
gear,  Sitka  Charley  turned  back  over  the 
course  he  had  come.  He,  too,  had  a  mighty 
longing  to  sit  by  the  fire  and  tend  his  com 
plaining  flesh,  but  the  honor  and  the  law  for 
bade.  He  toiled  painfully  over  the  frozen 
field,  each  step  a  protest,  every  muscle  in  re 
volt.  Several  times,  where  the  open  water 
between  the  jams  had  recently  crusted,  he 
was  forced  to  miserably  accelerate  his  move 
ments  as  the  fragile  footing  swayed  and 
threatened  beneath  him.  In  such  places 
death  was  quick  and  easy  ;  but  it  was  not  his 
desire  to  endure  no  more. 

His    deepening   anxiety    vanished   as   two 
Indians  dragged  into  view  round  a  bend  in 


THE   WISDOM   OF  THE   TRAIL        149 

the  river.  They  staggered  and  panted  like 
men  under  heavy  burdens  ;  yet  the  packs  on 
their  backs  were  a  matter  of  but  few  pounds. 
He  questioned  them  eagerly,  and  their  re 
plies  seemed  to  relieve  him.  He  hurried  on. 
Next  came  two  white  men,  supporting  be 
tween  them  a  woman.  They  also  behaved  as 
though  drunken,  and  their  limbs  shook  with 
weakness.  But  the  woman  leaned  lightly 
upon  them,  choosing  to  carry  herself  forward 
with  her  own  strength.  At  sight  of  her,  a 
flash  of  joy  cast  its  fleeting  light  across  Sitka 
Charley's  face.  He  cherished  a  very  great 
regard  for  Mrs.  Eppingwell.  He  had  seen 
many  white  women,  but  this  was  the  first 
to  travel  the  trail  with  him.  When  Captain 
Eppingwell  proposed  the  hazardous  undertak 
ing  and  made  him  an  offer  for  his  services, 
he  had  shaken  his  head  gravely ;  for  it  was 
an  unknown  journey  through  the  dismal  vast- 
nesses  of  the  Northland,  and  he  knew  it  to 
be  of  the  kind  that  try  to  the  uttermost  the 
souls  of  men.  But  when  he  learned  that  the 
Captain's  wife  was  to  accompany  them,  he 
had  refused  flatly  to  have  anything  further 
to  do  with  it,  Had  it  been  a  woman  of  his 
own  race  he  would  have  harbored  no  objec- 


150  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

tions  ;  but  these  women  of  the  Southland  — 
no,  no,  they  were  too  soft,  too  tender,  for 
such  enterprises. 

Sitka  Charley  did  not  know  this  kind  of 
woman.  Five  minutes  before,  he  did  not 
even  dream  of  taking  charge  of  the  expedi 
tion  ;  but  when  she  came  to  him  with  her 
wonderful  smile  and  her  straight  clean  Eng 
lish,  and  talked  to  the  point,  without  plead 
ing  or  persuading,  he  had  incontinently 
yielded.  Had  there  been  a  softness  and  ap 
peal  to  mercy  in  the  eyes,  a  tremble  to  the 
voice,  a  taking  advantage  of  sex,  he  would 
have  stiffened  to  steel ;  instead  her  clear- 
searching  eyes  and  clear-ringing  voice,  her 
utter  frankness  and  tacit  assumption  of  equal 
ity,  had  robbed  him  of  his  reason.  He  felt, 
then,  that  this  was  a  new  breed  of  woman  ; 
and  ere  they  had  been  trail-mates  for  many 
days,  he  knew  why  the  sons  of  such  women 
mastered  the  land  and  the  sea,  and  why  the 
sons  of  his  own  womankind  could  not  prevail 
against  them.  Tender  and  soft !  Day  after 
day  he  watched  her,  muscle-weary,  exhausted, 
indomitable,  and  the  words  beat  in  upon  him 
in  a  perennial  refrain.  Tender  and  soft! 
He  knew  her  feet  had  been  born  to  easy 


THE   WISDOM   OF   THE   TRAIL        151 

paths  and  sunny  lands,  strangers  to  the  moc- 
casined  pain  of  the  North,  unkissed  by  the 
chill  lips  of  the  frost,  and  he  watched  and 
marveled  at  them  twinkling  ever  through  the 
weary  day. 

She  had  always  a  smile  and  a  word  of  cheer, 
from  which  not  even  the  meanest  packer 
was  excluded.  As  the  way  grew  darker 
she  seemed  to  stiffen  and  gather  greater 
strength,  and  when  Kah-Chucte  and  Gowhee, 
who  had  bragged  that  they  knew  every  land 
mark  of  the  way  as  a  child  did  the  skin-bales 
of  the  tepee,  acknowledged  that  they  knew 
not  where  they  were,  it  was  she  who  raised  a 
forgiving  voice  amid  the  curses  of  the  men. 
She  had  sung  to  them  that  night,  till  they 
felt  the  weariness  fall  from  them  and  were 
ready  to  face  the  future  with  fresh  hope. 
And  when  the  food  failed  and  each  scant 
stint  was  measured  jealously,  she  it  was  who 
rebelled  against  the  machinations  of  her  hus 
band  and  Sitka  Charley,  and  demanded  and 
received  a  share  neither  greater  nor  less  than 
that  of  the  others. 

Sitka  Charley  was  proud  to  know  this  wo 
man.  A  new  richness,  a  greater  breadth,  had 
come  into  his  life  with  her  presence.  Hith- 


152  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

erto  he  had  been  his  own  mentor,  had  turned 
to  right  or  left  at  no  man's  beck;  he  had 
moulded  himself  according  to  his  own  dic 
tates,  nourished  his  manhood  regardless  of 
all  save  his  own  opinion.  For  the  first  time 
he  had  felt  a  call  from  without  for  the  best 
that  was  in  him.  Just  a  glance  of  apprecia 
tion  from  the  clear-searching  eyes,  a  word  of 
thanks  from  the  clear-ringing  voice,  just  a 
slight  wreathing  of  the  lips  in  the  wonderful 
smile,  and  he  walked  with  the  gods  for  hours 
to  come.  It  was  a  new  stimulant  to  his  man 
hood;  for  the  first  time  he  thrilled  with  a 
conscious  pride  in  his  wisdom  of  the  trail ; 
and  between  the  twain  they  ever  lifted  the 
sinking  hearts  of  their  comrades. 

The  faces  of  the  two  men  and  the  woman 
brightened  as  they  saw  him,  for  after  all  he 
was  the  staff  they  leaned  upon.  But  Sitka 
Charley,  rigid  as  was  his  wont,  concealing 
pain  and  pleasure  impartially  beneath  an  iron 
exterior,  asked  them  the  welfare  of  the  rest, 
told  the  distance  to  the  fire,  and  continued  on 
the  back-trip.  Next  he  met  a  single  Indian, 
unburdened,  limping,  lips  compressed,  and 
eyes  set  with  the  pain  of  a  foot  in  which  the 


THE  WISDOM   OF   THE  TRAIL       153 

quick  fought  a  losing  battle  with  the  dead. 
All  possible  care  had  been  taken  of  him,  but 
in  the  last  extremity  the  weak  and  unfortu 
nate  must  perish,  and  Sitka  Charley  deemed 
his  days  to  be  few.  The  man  could  not  keep 
up  for  long,  so  he  gave  him  rough  cheering 
words.  After  that  came  two  more  Indians, 
to  whom  he  had  allotted  the  task  of  helping 
along  Joe,  the  third  white  man  of  the  party. 
They  had  deserted  him.  Sitka  Charley  saw 
at  a  glance  the  lurking  spring  in  their  bodies, 
and  knew  they  had  at  last  cast  off  his  mas 
tery.  So  he  was  not  taken  unawares  when 
he  ordered  them  back  in  quest  of  their  aban 
doned  charge,  and  saw  the  gleam  of  the  hunt 
ing-knives  that  they  drew  from  the  sheaths. 
A  pitiful  spectacle,  three  weak  men  lifting 
their  puny  strength  in  the  face  of  the  mighty 
vastness;  but  the  two  recoiled  under  the 
fierce  rifle-blows  of  the  one,  and  returned 
like  beaten  dogs  to  the  leash.  Two  hours 
later,  with  Joe  reeling  between  them  and 
Sitka  Charley  bringing  up  the  rear,  they 
came  to  the  fire,  where  the  remainder  of  the 
expedition  crouched  in  the  shelter  of  the  fly. 
"  A  few  words,  my  comrades,  before  we 
sleep,"  Sitka  Charley  said,  after  they  had  de- 


154  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

voured  their  slim  rations  of  unleavened  bread. 
He  was  speaking  to  the  Indians,  in  their  own 
tongue,  having  already  given  the  import  to 
the  whites.  "  A  few  words,  my  comrades, 
for  your  own  good,  that  ye  may  yet  per 
chance  live.  I  shall  give  you  the  law ;  on 
his  own  head  be  the  death  of  him  that  breaks 
it.  We  have  passed  the  Hills  of  Silence,  and 
we  now  travel  the  head-reaches  of  the  Stuart. 
It  may  be  one  sleep,  it  may  be  several,  it  may 
be  many  sleeps,  but  in  time  we  shall  come 
among  the  Men  of  the  Yukon,  who  have 
much  grub.  It  were  well  that  we  look  to  the 
law.  To-day,  Kah-Chucte  and  Gowhee,  whom 
I  commanded  to  break  trail,  f orgotT  they  were 
men,  and  like  frightened  children  ran  away. 
True,  they  forgot ;  so  let  us  forget.  But 
hereafter  let  them  remember.  If  it  should 
happen  they  do  not "  —  He  touched  his  rifle 
carelessly,  grimly.  "  To-morrow  they  shall 
carry  the  flour  and  see  that  the  white  man 
Joe  lies  not  down  by  the  trail.  The  cups  of 
flour  are  counted;  should  so  much  as  an 
ounce  be  wanting  at  nightfall  —  Do  ye  un 
derstand  ?  To-day  there  were  others  that 
forgot.  Moose-Head  and  Three-Salmon  left 
the  white  man  Joe  to  lie  in  the  snow.  Let 


THE   WISDOM  OF  THE  TRAIL        155 

them  forget  no  more.  With  the  light  of  day 
shall  they  go  forth  and  break  trail.  Ye  have 
heard  the  law.  Look  well,  lest  ye  break  it." 

Sitka  Charley  found  it  beyond  him  to  keep 
the  line  close  up.  From  Moose-Head  and 
Three-Salmon,  who  broke  trail  in  advance, 
to  Kah-Chucte,  Gowhee,  and  Joe,  it  strag 
gled  out  over  a  mile.  Each  staggered,  fell, 
or  rested,  as  he  saw  fit.  The  line  of  march 
was  a  progression  through  a  chain  of  irregu 
lar  halts.  Each  drew  upon  the  last  remnant 
of  his  strength  and  stumbled  onward  till  it 
was  expended,  but  in  some  miraculous  way 
there  was  always  another  last  remnant.  Each 
time  a  man  fell,  it  was  with  the  firm  belief 
that  he  would  rise  no  more ;  yet  he  did  rise, 
and  again,  and  again.  The  flesh  yielded,  the 
will  conquered ;  but  each  triumph  was  a 
tragedy.  The  Indian  with  the  frozen  foot, 
no  longer  erect,  crawled  forward  on  hand  and 
knee.  He  rarely  rested,  for  he  knew  the  pen 
alty  exacted  by  the  frost.  Even  Mrs.  Epping- 
welFs  lips  were  at  last  set  in  a  stony  smile, 
and  her  eyes,  seeing,  saw  not.  Often,  she 
stopped,  pressing  a  mittened  hand  to  her 
heart,  gasping  and  dizzy. 


156  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

Joe,  the  white  man,  had  passed  beyond 
the  stage  of  suffering.  He  no  longer  begged 
to  be  let  alone,  prayed  to  die  ;  but  was  soothed 
and  content  under  the  anodyne  of  delirium. 
Kah-Chucte  and  Gowhee  dragged  him  on 
roughly,  venting  upon  him  many  a  savage 
glance  or  blow.  To  them  it  was  the  acme  of 
injustice.  Their  hearts  were  bitter  with  hate, 
heavy  with  fear.  Why  should  they  cumber 
their  strength  with  his  weakness  ?  To  do  so, 
meant  death  ;  not  to  do  so  —  and  they  remem 
bered  the  law  of  Sitka  Charley,  and  the  rifle. 

Joe  fell  with  greater  frequency  as  the  day 
light  waned,  and  so  hard  was  he  to  raise 
that  they  dropped  farther  and  farther  behind. 
Sometimes  all  three  pitched  into  the  snow,  so 
weak  had  the  Indians  become.  Yet  on  their 
backs  was  life,  and  strength,  and  warmth. 
Within  the  flour-sacks  were  all  the  potentiali 
ties  of  existence.  They  could  not  but  think 
of  this,  and  it  was  not  strange,  that  which 
came  to  pass.  They  had  fallen  by  the  side 
of  a  great  timber- jam  where  a  thousand  cords 
of  firewood  waited  the  match.  Near  by  was 
an  air  hole  through  the  ice.  Kah-Chucte 
looked  on  the  wood  and  the  water,  as  did  Gow 
hee  ;  then  they  looked  on  each  other.  Never 


THE   WISDOM   OF  THE   TRAIL        157 

a  word  was  spoken.  Gowhee  struck  a  fire ; 
Kah-Chucte  filled  a  tin  cup  with  water  and 
heated  it ;  Joe  babbled  of  things  in  another 
land,  in  a  tongue  they  did  not  understand. 
They  mixed  flour  with  the  warm  water  till  it 
was  a  thin  paste,  and  of  this  they  drank  many 
cups.  They  did  not  offer  any  to  Joe ;  but 
he  did  not  mind.  He  did  not  mind  anything, 
not  even  his  moccasins,  which  scorched  and 
smoked  among  the  coals. 

A  crystal  mist  of  snow  fell  about  them, 
softly,  caressingly,  wrapping  them  in  clinging 
robes  of  white.  And  their  feet  would  have 
yet  trod  many  trails  had  not  destiny  brushed 
the  clouds  aside  and  cleared  the  air.  Nay,  ten 
minutes'  delay  would  have  been  salvation. 
Sitka  Charley,  looking  back,  saw  the  pillared 
smoke  of  their  fire,  and  guessed.  And  he 
looked  ahead  at  those  who  were  faithful,  and 
at  Mrs.  Eppingwell. 

"  So,  my  good  comrades,  ye  have  again  for 
gotten  that  you  were  men  ?  Good.  Very  good. 
There  will  be  fewer  bellies  to  feed." 

Sitka  Charley  retied  the  flour  as  he  spoke, 
strapping  the  pack  to  the  one  on  his  own  back. 
He  kicked  Joe  till  the  pain  broke  through  the 


158  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

poor  devil's  bliss  and  brought  him  doddering 
to  his  feet.  Then  he  shoved  him  out  upon  the 
trail  and  started  him  on  his  way.  The  two 
Indians  attempted  to  slip  off. 

"  Hold,  Gowhee !  And  thou,  too,  Kah- 
Chucte  !  Hath  the  flour  given  such  strength 
to  thy  legs  that  they  may  outrun  the  swift- 
winged  lead  ?  Think  not  to  cheat  the  law. 
Be  men  for  the  last  time,  and  be  content  that 
ye  die  full-stomached.  Come,  step  up,  back  to 
the  timber,  shoulder  to  shoulder.  Come  !  " 

The  two  men  obeyed,  quietly,  without  fear ; 
for  it  is  the  future  which  presses  upon  the 
man,  not  the  present. 

"  Thou,  Gowhee,  hast  a  wife  and  children 
and  a  deer-skin  lodge  in  the  Chippewyan. 
What  is  thy  will  in  the  matter?  " 

"  Give  thou  her  of  the  goods  which  are 
mine  by  the  word  of  the  Captain  —  the  blan 
kets,  the  beads,  the  tobacco,  the  box  which 
makes  strange  sounds  after  the  manner  of  the 
white  men.  Say  that  I  did  die  on  the  trail, 
but  say  not  how." 

"  And  thou,  Kah-Chucte,  who  hast  nor 
wife  nor  child?  " 

"  Mine  is  a  sister,  the  wife  of  the  Factor  at 
Koshiin.  He  beats  her,  and  she  is  not  happy. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE   TRAIL        159 

Give  thou  her  the  goods  which  are  mine  by 
the  contract,  and  tell  her  it  were  well  she  go 
back  to  her  own  people.  Shouldst  thou  meet 
the  man,  and  be  so  minded,  it  were  a  good 
deed  that  he  should  die.  He  beats  her,  and 
she  is  afraid." 

"  Are  ye  content  to  die  by  the  law  ?  " 

"  We  are." 

"  Then  good-by,  my  good  comrades.  May 
ye  sit  by  the  well-filled  pot,  in  warm  lodges, 
ere  the  day  is  done." 

As  he  spoke,  he  raised  his  rifle,  and  many 
echoes  broke  the  silence.  Hardly  had  they 
died  away,  when  other  rifles  spoke  in  the 
distance.  Sitka  Charley  started.  There  had 
been  more  than  one  shot,  yet  there  was  but 
one  other  rifle  in  the  party.  He  gave  a  fleet 
ing  glance  at  the  men  who  lay  so  quietly, 
smiled  viciously  at  the  wisdom  of  the  trail, 
and  hurried  on  to  meet  the  Men  of  the 
Yukon. 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  KING 


ONCE,  when  the  Northland  was  very  young, 
the  social  and  civic  virtues  were  remarkable 
alike  for  their  paucity  and  their  simplicity. 
When  the  burden  of  domestic  duties  grew 
grievous,  and  the  fireside  mood  expanded  to 
a  constant  protest  against  its  bleak  loneliness, 
the  adventurers  from  the  Southland,  in  lieu 
of  better,  paid  the  stipulated  prices  and  took 
unto  themselves  native  wives.  It  was  a  fore 
taste  of  Paradise  to  the  women,  for  it  must 
be  confessed  that  the  white  rovers  gave  far 
better  care  and  treatment  to  them  than  did 
their  Indian  copartners.  Of  course,  the  white 
men  themselves  were  satisfied  with  such  deals, 
as  were  also  the  Indian  men  for  that  matter. 
Having  sold  their  daughters  and  sisters  for 
cotton  blankets  and  obsolete  rifles,  and  traded 
their  warm  fur.*  for  flimsy  calico  and  bad 
whiskey,  the  sons  of  the  soil  promptly  and 
cheerfully  succumbed  to  quick  consumption 
and  other  swift  diseases  correlated  with  the 
blessings  of  a  superior  civilization. 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  KING  161 

It  was  in  these  days  of  Arcadian  simplicity 
that  Cal  Galbraith  journeyed  through  the 
land  and  fell  sick  on  the  Lower  River.  It 
was  a  refreshing  advent  in  the  lives  of  the 
good  Sisters  of  the  Holy  Cross,  who  gave  him 
shelter  and  medicine ;  though  they  little 
dreamed  of  the  hot  elixir  infused  into  his 
veins  by  the  touch  of  their  soft  hands  and 
their  gentle  ministrations.  Cal  Galbraith  be 
came  troubled  with  strange  thoughts,  which 
clamored  for  attention  till  he  laid  eyes  on  the 
Mission  girl,  Madeline.  Yet  he  gave  no  sign, 
biding  his  time  patiently.  He  strengthened 
with  the  coming  spring,  and  when  the  sun 
rode  the  heavens  in  a  golden  circle,  and  the 
joy  and  throb  of  life  were  in  all  the  land, 
he  gathered  his  still  weak  body  together  and 
departed. 

Now  Madeline,  the  Mission  girl,  was  an  or 
phan.  Her  white  father  had  failed  to  give  a 
bald-faced  grizzly  the  trail  one  day,  and  had 
died  quickly.  Then  her  Indian  mother,  hav 
ing  no  man  to  fill  the  winter  cache,  had  tried 
the  hazardous  experiment  of  waiting  till  the 
salmon-run  on  fifty  pounds  of  flour  and  half 
as  many  of  bacon.  After  that  the  baby, 
Chook-ra,  went  to  live  with  the  good  Sisters, 


162  THE  SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

and    to  be  thenceforth   known   by    another 
name. 

But  Madeline  still  had  kinsfolk,  the  near 
est  being  a  dissolute  uncle  who  outraged  his 
vitals  with  inordinate  quantities  of  the  white 
man's  whiskey.  He  strove  daily  to  walk  with 
the  gods,  and  incidentally  his  feet  sought 
shorter  trails  to  the  grave.  When  sober  he 
suffered  exquisite  torture.  He  had  no  con 
science.  To  this  ancient  vagabond  Cal  Gal- 
braith  duly  presented  himself,  and  they  con 
sumed  many  words  and  much  tobacco  in  the 
conversation  that  followed.  Promises  were 
also  made ;  and  in  the  end  the  old  heathen 
took  a  few  pounds  of  dried  salmon  and  his 
birch-bark  canoe,  and  paddled  away  to  the 
Mission  of  the  Holy  Cross. 

It  is  not  given  the  world  to  know  what 
promises  he  made  and  what  lies  he  told,  - 
the  Sisters  never  gossip  ;  but  when  he  re 
turned,  upon  his  swarthy  chest  there  was  a 
brass  crucifix,  and  in  his  canoe  his  niece  Mad 
eline.  That  night  there  was  a  grand  wed 
ding  and  a  potlach  ;  so  that  for  two  days  to 
follow  there  was  no  fishing  done  by  the  vil 
lage.  But  in  the  morning  Madeline  shook 
the  dust  of  the  Lower  River  from  her  mocca- 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  KING  163 

sins,  and  with  her  husband,  in  a  poling-boat, 
went  to  live  on  the  Upper  River  in  a  place 
known  as  the  Lower  Country.  And  in  the 
years  which  followed  she  was  a  good  wife, 
sharing  her  husband's  hardships  and  cooking 
his  food.  And  she  kept  him  in  straight 
trails,  till  he  learned  to  save  his  dust  and  to 
work  mightily.  In  the  end,  he  struck  it  rich, 
and  built  a  cabin  in  Circle  City  ;  and  his  hap 
piness  was  such  that  men  who  came  to  visit 
him  in  his  home  circle  became  restless  at  the 
sight  of  it  and  envied  him  greatly. 

But  the  Northland  began  to  mature,  and 
social  amenities  to  make  their  appearance. 
Hitherto,  the  Southland  had  sent  forth  its 
sons  ;  but  it  now  belched  forth  a  new  exodus, 
this  time  of  its  daughters.  Sisters  and  wives 
they  were  not ;  but  they  did  not  fail  to  put 
new  ideas  in  the  heads  of  the  men,  and  to 
elevate  the  tone  of  things  in  ways  peculiarly 
their  own.  No  more  did  the  squaws  gather 
at  the  dances,  go  roaring  down  the  centre  in 
the  good,  old  Virginia  reels,  or  make  merry 
with  jolly  "  Dan  Tucker."  They  fell  back 
on  their  native  stoicism,  and  uncomplainingly 
watched  the  rule  of  their  white  sisters  from 
the  cabins. 


164  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

Then  another  exodus  came  over  the  moun 
tains  from  the  prolific  Southland.  This  time 
it  was  of  women  that  became  mighty  in  the 
land.  Their  word  was  law  ;  their  law  was 
steel.  They  frowned  upon  the  Indian  wives, 
while  the  other  women  became  mild  and 
walked  humbly.  There  were  cowards  who 
became  ashamed  of  their  ancient  covenants 
with  the  daughters  of  the  soil,  who  looked 
with  a  new  distaste  upon  their  dark-skinned 
children ;  but  there  were  also  others  —  men 
—  who  remained  true  and  proud  of  their 
aboriginal  vows.  When  it  became  the  fash 
ion  to  divorce  the  native  wives,  Cal  Galbraith 
retained  his  manhood,  and  in  so  doing  felt 
the  heavy  hand  of  the  women  who  had  come 
last,  knew  least,  but  who  ruled  the  land. 

One  day,  the  Upper  Country,  which  lies 
far  above  Circle  City,  was  pronounced  rich. 
Dog-teams  carried  the  news  to  Salt  Water; 
golden  argosies  freighted  the  lure  across  the 
North  Pacific  ;  wires  and  cables  sang  with 
the  tidings  ;  and  the  world  heard  for  the  first 

O      ' 

time  of  the  Klondike  River  and  the  Yukon 
Country. 

Cal  Galbraith  had  lived  the  years  quietly. 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  KING  165 

He  had  been  a  good  husband  to  Madeline, 
and  she  had  blessed  him.  But  somehow  dis 
content  fell  upon  him ;  he  felt  vague  yearn 
ings  for  his  own  kind,  for  the  life  he  had 
been  shut  out  from,  —  a  general  sort  of  desire, 
which  men  sometimes  feel,  to  break  out  and 
taste  the  prime  of  living.  Besides,  there 
drifted  down  the  river  wild  rumors  of  the 
wonderful  Eldorado,  glowing  descriptions  of 
the  city  of  logs  and  tents,  and  ludicrous 
accounts  of  the  che-cha-quas  who  had  rushed 
in  and  were  stampeding  the  whole  country. 
Circle  City  was  dead.  The  world  had  moved 
on  up  river  and  become  a  new  and  most  mar 
velous  world. 

Cal  Galbraith  grew  restless  on  the  edge  of 
things,  and  wished  to  see  with  his  own  eyes. 
So,  after  the  wash-up,  he  weighed  in  a  couple 
of  hundred  pounds  of  dust  on  the  Com 
pany's  big  scales,  and  took  a  draft  for  the 
same  on  Dawsori.  Then  he  put  Tom  Dixon 
in  charge  of  his  mines,  kissed  Madeline  good- 
by,  promised  to  be  back  before  the  first  mush- 
ice  ran,  and  took  passage  on  an  up-river 
steamer. 

Madeline  waited,  —  waited  through  all  the 
three  months  of  daylight.  She  fed  the  dogs, 


166  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

gave  much  of  her  time  to  young  Cal,  watched 
the  short  summer  fade  away  and  the  sun  be 
gin  its  long  journey  to  the  south.  And  she 
prayed  much  in  the  manner  of  the  Sisters 
of  the  Holy  Cross.  The  fall  came,  and  with 
it  there  was  mush-ice  on  the  Yukon,  and  Cir 
cle  City  kings  returning  to  the  winter's  work 
at  their  mines,  but  no  Cal  Galbraith.  Tom 
Dixon  received  a  letter,  however,  for  his  men 
sledded  up  her  winter's  supply  of  dry  pine. 
The  Company  received  a  letter,  for  its  dog- 
teams  filled  her  cache  with  their  best  provi 
sions,  and  she  was  told  that  her  credit  was 
limitless. 

Through  all  the  ages  man  has  been  held 
the  chief  instigator  of  the  woes  of  woman  ; 
but  in  this  case  the  men  held  their  tongues 
and  swore  harshly  at  one  of  their  number 
who  was  away,  while  the  women  failed  utterly 
to  emulate  them.  So,  without  needless  de 
lay,  Madeline  heard  strange  tales  of  Cal 
Galbraith's  doings;  also,  of  a  certain  Greek 
dancer  who  played  with  men  as  children  did 
with  bubbles.  Now  Madeline  was  an  Indian 
woman,  and  further,  she  had  no  woman  friend 
to  whom  to  go  for  wise  counsel.  She  prayed 
and  planned  by  turns,  and  that  night,  being 


THE   WIFE   OF  A   KING  167 

quick  of  resolve  and  action,  she  harnessed  the 
dogs,  and  with  young  Cal  securely  lashed  to 
the  sled,  stole  away. 

Though  the  Yukon  still  ran  free,  the  eddy- 
ice  was  growing,  and  each  day  saw  the  river 
dwindling  to  a  slushy  thread.  Save  him  who 
has  done  the  like,  no  man  may  know  what 
she  endured  in  traveling  a  hundred  miles  on 
the  rim-ice ;  nor  may  they  understand  the 
toil  and  hardship  of  breaking  the  two  hun 
dred  miles  of  packed  ice  which  remained  after 
the  river  froze  for  good.  But  Madeline  was 
an  Indian  woman,  so  she  did  these  things, 
and  one  night  there  came  a  knock  at  Male- 
mute  Kid's  door.  Thereat  he  fed  a  team  of 
starving  dogs,  put  a  healthy  youngster  to 
bed,  and  turned  his  attention  to  an  exhausted 
woman.  He  removed  her  ice-bound  mocca 
sins  while  he  listened  to  her  tale,  and  stuck 
the  point  of  his  knife  into  her  feet  that  he 
might  see  how  far  they  were  frozen. 

Despite  his  tremendous  virility,  Malemute 
Kid  was  possessed  of  a  softer,  womanly  ele 
ment,  which  could  win  the  confidence  of  a 
snarling  wolf-dog  or  draw  confessions  from 
the  most  wintry  heart.  Nor  did  he  seek 
them.  Hearts  opened  to  him  as  spontane- 


168  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

ously  as  flowers  to  the  sun.  Even  the  priest, 
Father  Roubeau,  had  been  known  to  confess 
to  him,  while  the  men  and  women  of  the 
Northland  were  ever  knocking  at  his  door, 
—  a  door  from  which  the  latch-string  hung 
always  out.  To  Madeline,  he  could  do  no 
wrong,  make  no  mistake.  She  had  known 
him  from  the  time  she  first  cast  her  lot  among 
the  people  of  her  father's  race;  and  to  her 
half -barbaric  mind  it  seemed  that  in  him  was 
centred  the  wisdom  of  the  ages,  that  between 
his  vision  and  the  future  there  could  be  no 
intervening  veil. 

There  were  false  ideals  in  the  land.  The 
social  strictures  of  Dawson  were  not  synony 
mous  with  those  of  the  previous  era,  and  the 
swift  maturity  of  the  Northland  involved 
much  wrong.  Malemute  Kid  was  aware  of 
this,  and  he  had  Cal  Galbraith's  measure  ac 
curately.  He  knew  a  hasty  word  was  the 
father  of  much  evil ;  besides,  he  was  minded 
to  teach  a  great  lesson  and  bring  shame  upon 
the  man.  So  Stanley  Prince,  the  young  min 
ing  expert,  was  called  into  the  conference  the 
following  night,  as  was  also  Lucky  Jack  Har 
rington  and  his  violin.  That  same  night, 
Bettles,  who  owed  a  great  ^debt  to  Malemute 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  KING  169 

Kid,  harnessed  up  Cal  Galbraith's  dogs, 
lashed  Cal  Galbraith,  junior,  to  the  sled,  and 
slipped  away  in  the  dark  for  Stuart  River. 

ii 

"  So  ;  one  —  two  —  three,  one  —  two  — 
three.  Now  reverse !  No,  no  !  Start  up 
again,  Jack.  See  —  this  way."  Prince  exe 
cuted  the  movement  as  one  should  who  has 
led  the  cotillion. 

"  Now ;  one  —  two  —  three,  one  —  two  — 
three.  Reverse !  Ah !  that 's  better.  Try 
it  again.  I  say,  you  know,  you  must  n't  look 
at  your  feet.  One  —  two  —  three,  one  —  two 
—  three.  Shorter  steps  !  You  are  not  hang 
ing  to  the  gee-pole  just  now.  Try  it  over. 
There  !  that 's  the  way.  One  — two  —  three, 
one  —  two  —  three." 

Round  and  round  went  Prince  and  Made 
line  in  an  interminable  waltz.  The  table  and 
stools  had  been  shoved  over  against  the  wall 
to  increase  the  room.  Malemute  Kid  sat  on 
the  bunk,  chin  to  knees,  greatly  interested. 
Jack  Harrington  sat  beside  him,  scraping 
away  on  his  violin  and  following  the  dan 
cers. 

It  was  a  unique  situation,  the  undertaking 


170  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

of  these  three  men  with  the  woman.  The 
most  pathetic  part,  perhaps,  was  the  business 
like  way  in  which  they  went  about  it.  No 
athlete  was  ever  trained  more  rigidly  for  a 
coming  contest,  nor  wolf-dog  for  the  harness, 
than  was  she.  But  they  had  good  material, 
for  Madeline,  unlike  most  women  of  her  race, 
in  her  childhood  had  escaped  the  carrying  of 
heavy  burdens  and  the  toil  of  the  trail.  Be 
sides,  she  was  a  clean-limbed,  willowy  crea 
ture,  possessed  of  much  grace  which  had  not 
hitherto  been  realized.  It  was  this  grace 
which  the  men  strove  to  bring  out  and  knock 
into  shape. 

"Trouble  with  her  she  learned  to  dance 
all  wrong,"  Prince  remarked  to  the  bunk, 
after  having  deposited  his  breathless  pupil 
on  the  table.  "She's  quick  at  picking  up; 
yet  I  could  do  better  had  she  never  danced  a 
step.  But  say,  Kid,  I  can't  understand  this." 
Prince  imitated  a  peculiar  movement  of  the 
shoulders  and  head,  —  a  weakness  Madeline 
suffered  from  in  walking. 

"  Lucky  for  her  she  was  raised  in  the  Mis 
sion,"  Malemute  Kid  answered.  "Packing, 
you  know,  —  the  head-strap.  Other  Indian 
women  have  it  bad,  but  she  didn't  do  any 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  KING  171 

packing  till  after  she  married,  and  then  only 
at  first.  Saw  hard  lines  with  that  husband 
of  hers.  They  went  through  the  Forty  Mile 
famine  together." 

"  But  can  we  break  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  know.  Perhaps  long  walks  with 
her  trainers  will  make  the  riffle.  Anyway, 
they'll  take  it  out  some,  won't  they,  Mad 
eline?" 

The  girl  nodded  assent.  If  Malemute  Kid, 
who  knew  all  things,  said  so,  why,  it  was  so. 
That  was  all  there  was  about  it. 

She  had  come  over  to  them,  anxious  to  be 
gin  again.  Harrington  surveyed  her  in  quest 
of  her  points,  much  in  the  same  manner  men 
do  horses.  It  certainly  was  not  disappointing, 
for  he  asked  with  sadden  interest,  "  What 
did  that  beggarly  uncle  of  yours  get  any 
way  ?  " 

"  One  rifle,'  one  blanket,  twenty  bottles  of 
hooch.  Kifle  broke."  She  said  this  last 
scornfully,  as  though  disgusted  at  how  low 
her  maiden-value  had  been  rated. 

She  spoke  fair  English,  with  many  pecul 
iarities  of  her  husband's  speech,  but  there 
was  still  perceptible  the  Indian  accent,  the 
traditional  groping  after  strange  gutturals. 


172  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

Even  this  her  instructors  had  taken  in  hand, 
and  with  no  small  success,  too. 

At  the  next  intermission  Prince  discovered 
a  new  predicament. 

"  I  say,  Kid,"  he  said,  "  we  're  wrong,  all 
wrong.  She  can't  learn  in  moccasins.  Put 
her  feet  into  slippers,  and  then  on  to  that 
waxed  floor  —  phew  !  " 

Madeline  raised  a  foot  and  regarded  her 
shapeless  house-moccasin  dubiously.  In  pre 
vious  winters,  both  at  Circle  City  and  Forty 
Mile,  she  had  danced  many  a  night  away  with 
similar  footgear,  and  there  had  been  nothing 
the  matter.  But  now  —  well,  if  there  was 
anything  wrong  it  was  for  Malemute  Kid  to 
know,  not  her. 

But  Malemute  Kid  did  know,  and  he  had 
a  good  eye  for  measures ;  so  he  put  on  his 
cap  and  mittens  and  went  down  the  hill  to 
pay  Mrs.  Eppingwell  a  call.  Her  husband, 
Clove  Eppingwell,  was  prominent  in  the  com 
munity  as  one  of  the  great  Government  offi 
cials.  The  Kid  had  noted  her  slender  little 
foot  one  night,  at  the  Governor's  Ball.  And 
as  he  also  knew  her  to  be  as  sensible  as  she 
was  pretty,  it  was  no  task  to  ask  of  her  a  cer 
tain  small  favor. 


THE   WIFE   OF  A   KING  173 

On  his  return,  Madeline  withdrew  for  a 
moment  to  the  inner  room.  When  she  re 
appeared  Prince  was  startled. 

"  By  Jove  !  "  he  gasped.  "  Who  'd  V 
thought  it !  The  little  witch  !  Why,  my 
sister  "  — 

"  Is  an  English  girl,"  interrupted  Malemute 
Kid,  "  with  an  English  foot.  This  girl  comes 
of  a  small-footed  race.  Moccasins  just  broad 
ened  her  feet  healthily,  while  she  did  not 
misshape  them  by  running  with  the  dogs  in 
her  childhood." 

But  this  explanation  failed  utterly  to  allay 
Prince's  admiration.  Harrington's  commer 
cial  instinct  was  touched,  and  as  he  looked 
upon  the  exquisitely  turned  foot  and  ankle, 
there  ran  through  his  mind  the  sordid  list,  - 
"  one  rifle,  one  blanket,  twenty  bottles  of 
hooch" 

Madeline  was  the  wife  of  a  king,  a  king 
whose  yellow  treasure  could  buy  outright  a 
score  of  fashion's  puppets ;  yet  in  all  her  life 
her  feet  had  known  no  gear  save  red-tanned 
moosehide.  At  first  she  looked  in  awe  at  the 
tiny  white  satin  slippers;  but  she  quickly 
understood  the  admiration  which  shone,  man 
like,  in  the  eyes  of  the  men.  Her  face  flushed 


174  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

with  pride.  For  the  moment  she  was  drunken 
with  her  woman's  loveliness ;  then  she  mur 
mured,  with  increased  scorn,  "  And  one  rifle 
broke !  " 

So  the  training  went  on.  Every  day  Male- 
mute  Kid  led  the  girl  out  on  long  walks  de 
voted  to  the  correction  of  her  carriage  and 
the  shortening  of  her  stride.  There  was  lit 
tle  likelihood  of  her  identity  being  discovered, 
for  Cal  Galbraith  and  the  rest  of  the  Old- 
Timers  were  like  lost  children  among  the 
many  strangers  who  had  rushed  into  the  land. 
Besides,  the  frost  of  the  North  has  a  bitter 
tongue,  and  the  tender  women  of  the  South, 
to  shield  their  cheeks  from  its  biting  caresses, 
were  prone  to  the  use  of  canvas  masks.  With 
faces  obscured  and  bodies  lost  in  squirrel-skin 
parkas,  a  mother  and  daughter,  meeting  on 
trail,  would  pass  as  strangers. 

The  coaching  progressed  rapidly.  At  first 
it  had  been  slow,  but  later  a  sudden  accelera 
tion  had  manifested  itself.  This  began  from 
the  moment  Madeline  tried  on  the  white  satin 
slippers,  and  in  so  doing  found  herself.  The 
pride  of  her  renegade  father,  apart  from  any 
natural  self-esteem  she  might  possess,  at  that 
instant  received  its  birth.  Hitherto,  she  had 


THE  WIFE   OF   A   KING  175 

deemed  herself  a  woman  of  an  alien  breed,  of 
inferior  stock,  purchased  by  her  lord's  favor. 
Her  husband  had  seemed  to  her  a  god,  who 
had  lifted  her,  through  no  essential  virtues  on 
her  part,  to  his  own  godlike  level.  But  she 
had  never  forgotten,  even  when  young  Cal 
was  born,  that  she  was  not  of  his  people.  As 
he  had  been  a  god,  so  had  his  womankind 
been  goddesses.  She  might  have  contrasted 
herself  with  them,  but  she  had  never  com 
pared.  It  might  have  been  that  familiarity 
bred  contempt ;  however,  be  that  as  it  may, 
she  had  ultimately  come  to  understand  these 
roving  white  men,  and  to  weigh  them.  True, 
her  mind  was  dark  to  deliberate  analysis,  but 
she  yet  possessed  her  woman's  clarity  of  vision 
in  such  matters.  On  the  night  of  the  slippers 
she  had  measured  the  bold,  open  admiration 
of  her  three  man  friends;  and  for  the  first 
time  comparison  had  suggested  itself.  It  was 
only  a  foot  and  an  ankle,  but  —  but  compari 
son  could  not,  in  the  nature  of  things,  cease 
at  that  point.  She  judged  herself  by  their 
standards  till  the  divinity  of  her  white  sisters 
was  shattered.  After  all,  they  were  only 
women,  and  why  should  she  not  exalt  herself 
to  their  place  ?  In  doing  these  things  she 


176  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

learned  where  she  lacked,  and  with  the  know 
ledge  of  her  weakness  came  her  strength. 
And  so  mightily  did  she  strive  that  her  three 
trainers  often  marveled  late  into  the  night 
over  the  eternal  mystery  of  woman. 

In  this  way  Thanksgiving  night  drew  near. 
At  irregular  intervals  Bettles  sent  word  down 
from  Stuart  River  regarding  the  welfare  of 
young  Cal.  The  time  of  their  return  was 
approaching.  More  than  once  a  casual  caller, 
hearing  dance-music  and  the  rhythmic  pulse 
of  feet,  entered,  only  to  find  Harrington 
scraping  away  and  the  other  two  beating  time 
or  arguing  noisily  over  a  mooted  step.  Made 
line  was  never  in  evidence,  having  precipi 
tately  fled  to  the  inner  room. 

On  one  of  these  nights  Cal  Galbraith 
dropped  in.  Encouraging  news  had  just 
come  down  from  Stuart  River,  and  Madeline 
had  surpassed  herself  —  not  in  walk  alone, 
and  carriage  and  grace,  but  in  womanly 
roguishness.  They  had  indulged  in  sharp  re 
partee,  and  she  had  defended  herself  bril 
liantly  ;  and  then,  yielding  to  the  intoxica 
tion  of  the  moment,  and  of  her  own  power, 
she  had  bullied,  and  mastered,  and  wheedled, 
and  patronized  them  with  most  astonishing 


THE   WIFE  OF  A  KING  177 

success.  And  instinctively,  involuntarily, 
they  had  bowed,  not  to  her  beauty,  her  wis 
dom,  her  wit,  but  to  that  indefinable  some 
thing  in  woman  to  which  man  yields  yet  cannot 
name.  The  room  was  dizzy  with  sheer  delight 
as  she  and  Prince  whirled  through  the  last 
dance  of  the  evening.  Harrington  was  throw 
ing  in  inconceivable  flourishes,  while  Male- 
mute  Kid,  utterly  abandoned,  had  seized  the 
broom  and  was  executing  mad  gyrations  on 
his  own  account. 

At  this  instant  the  door  shook  with  a  heavy 
rap-rap,  and  their  quick  glances  noted  the 
lifting  of  the  latch.  But  they  had  survived 
similar  situations  before.  Harrington  never 
broke  a  note.  Madeline  shot  through  the 
waiting  door  to  the  inner  room.  The  broom 
went  hurtling  under  the  bunk,  and  by  the 
time  Cal  Galbraith  and  Louis  Savoy  got  their 
heads  in,  Malemute  Kid  and  Prince  were  in 
each  other's  arms,  wildly  schottisching  down 
the  room. 

As  a  rule,  Indian  women  do  not  make  a 
practice  of  fainting  on  provocation,  but  Mad 
eline  came  as  near  to  it  as  she  ever  had  in 
her  life.  For  an  hour  she  crouched  on  the 
floor,  listening  to  the  heavy  voices  of  the  men 


178  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

rumbling  up  and  down  in  mimic  thunder. 
Like  familiar  chords  of  childhood  melodies, 
every  intonation,  every  trick  of  her  husband's 
voice,  swept  in  upon  her,  fluttering  her  heart 
and  weakening  her  knees  till  she  lay  half- 
fainting  against  the  door.  It  was  well  she 
could  neither  see  nor  hear  when  he  took  his 
departure. 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  go  back  to  Cir 
cle  City?"  Malemute  Kid  asked  simply. 

"  Have  n't  thought  much  about  it,"  he  re 
plied.  "  Don't  think  till  after  the  ice  breaks." 

"  And  Madeline  ?  " 

He  flushed  at  the  question,  and  there  was 
a  quick  droop  to  his  eyes.  Malemute  Kid 
could  have  despised  him  for  that,  had  he 
known  men  less.  As  it  was,  his  gorge  rose 
against  the  wives  and  daughters  who  had 
come  into  the  land,  and  not  satisfied  with 
usurping  the  place  of  the  native  women,  had 
put  unclean  thoughts  in  the  heads  of  the 
men  and  made  them  ashamed. 

"I  guess  she  's  all  right,"  the  Circle  City 
king  answered  hastily,  and  in  an  apologetic 
manner.  "  Tom  Dixon  's  got  charge  of  my 
interests,  you  know,  and  he  sees  to  it  that 
she  has  everything  she  wants." 


THE   WIFE  OF  A   KING  179 

Malemute  Kid  laid  hand  upon  his  arm,  and 
hushed  him  suddenly.  They  had  stepped  with 
out.  Overhead,  the  aurora,  a  gorgeous  wanton, 
flaunted  miracles  of  color;  beneath  lay  the 
sleeping  town.  Far  below,  a  solitary  dog  gave 
tongue.  The  king  again  began  to  speak,  but 
the  Kid  pressed  his  hand  for  silence.  The 
sound  multiplied.  Dog  after  dog  took  up  the 
strain  till  the  full-throated  chorus  swayed  the 
night.  To  him  who  hears  for  the  first  time 
this  weird  song,  is  told  the  first  and  greatest 
secret  of  the  Northland ;  to  him  who  has 
heard  it  often,  it  is  the  solemn  knell  of  lost 
endeavor.  It  is  the  plaint  of  tortured  souls, 
for  in  it  is  invested  the  heritage  of  the  North, 
the  suffering  of  countless  generations  —  the 
warning  and  the  requiem  to  the  world's  es- 
trays. 

Cal  Galbraith  shivered  slightly  as  it  died 
away  in  half-caught  sobs.  The  Kid  read  his 
thoughts  openly,  and  wandered  back  with  him 
through  all  the  weary  days  of  famine  and  dis 
ease  ;  and  with  him  was  also  the  patient 
Madeline,  sharing  his  pains  and  perils,  never 
doubting,  never  complaining.  His  mind's  re 
tina  vibrated  to  a  score  of  pictures,  stern, 
clear-cut,  and  the  hand  of  the  Past  drew  back 


180  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

with  heavy  fingers  on  his  heart.  It  was  the 
psychological  moment.  Malemute  Kid  was 
half  tempted  to  play  his  reserve  card  and  win 
the  game ;  but  the  lesson  was  too  mild  as  yet, 
and  he  let  it  pass.  The  next  instant  they  had 
gripped  hands,  and  the  king's  beaded  mocca 
sins  were  drawing  protests  from  the  outraged 
snow  as  he  crunched  down  the  hill. 

Madeline  in  collapse  was  another  woman  to 
the  mischievous  creature  of  an  hour  before, 
whose  laughter  had  been  so  infectious  and 
whose  heightened  color  and  flashing  eyes  had 
made  her  teachers  for  the  while  forget.  Weak 
and  nerveless,  she  sat  in  the  chair  just  as 
she  had  been  dropped  there  by  Prince  and 
Harrington.  Malemute  Kid  frowned.  This 
would  never  do.  When  the  time  of  meeting 
her  husband  came  to  hand,  she  must  carry 
things  off  with  high-handed  imperiousness. 
It  was  very  necessary  she  should  do  it  after 
the  manner  of  white  women,  else  the  victory 
would  be  no  victory  at  all.  So  he  talked  to 
her,  sternly,  without  mincing  of  words,  and 
initiated  her  into  the  weaknesses  of  his  own 
sex,  till  she  came  to  understand  what  simple 
tons  men  were  after  all,  and  why  the  word 
of  their  women  was  law. 


THE   WIFE  OF  A  KING  181 

A  few  days  before  Thanksgiving  night, 
Malemute  Kid  made  another  call  on  Mrs. 
Eppingwell.  She  promptly  overhauled  her 
feminine  fripperies,  paid  a  protracted  visit  to 
the  dry -goods  department  of  the  P.  C.  Com 
pany,  and  returned  with  the  Kid  to  make 
Madeline's  acquaintance.  After  that  came  a 
period  such  as  the  cabin  had  never  seen  be 
fore,  and  what  with  cutting,  and  fitting,  and 
basting,  and  stitching,  and  numerous  other 
wonderful  and  unknowable  things,  the  male 
conspirators  were  more  often  banished  the 
premises  than  not.  At  such  times  the  Opera 
House  opened  its  double  storm-doors  to  them. 
So  often  did  they  put  their  heads  together, 
and  so  deeply  did  they  drink  to  curious  toasts, 
that  the  loungers  scented  unknown  creeks  of 
incalculable  richness,  and  it  is  known  that 
several  che-cha-quas  and  at  least  one  Old- 
Timer  kept  their  stampeding  packs  stored 
behind  the  bar,  ready  to  hit  the  trail  at  a 
moment's  notice. 

Mrs.  Eppingwell  was  a  woman  of  capacity  ; 
so,  when  she  turned  Madeline  over  to  her 
trainers  on  Thanksgiving  night  she  was  so 
transformed  that  they  were  almost  afraid  of  her. 
Prince  wrapped  a  Hudson  Bay  blanket  about 


182  THE   SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

her  with  a  mock  reverence  more  real  than 
feigned,  while  Malemute  Kid,  whose  arm  she 
had  taken,  found  it  a  severe  trial  to  resume 
his  wonted  mentorship.  Harrington,  with  the 
list  of  purchase  still  running  through  his 
head,  dragged  along  in  the  rear,  nor  opened 
his  mouth  once  all  the  way  down  into  the 
town.  When  they  came  to  the  back  door  of 
the  Opera  House  they  took  the  blanket  from 
Madeline's  shoulders  and  spread  it  on  the 
snow.  Slipping  out  of  Prince's  moccasins,  she 
stepped  upon  it  in  new  satin  slippers.  The 
masquerade  was  at  its  height.  She  hesitated, 
but  they  jerked  open  the  door  and  shoved 
her  in.  Then  they  ran  around  to  come  in  by 
the  front  entrance. 

in 

"  Where  is  Freda  ?  "  the  Old-Timers  ques 
tioned,  while  the  che-cha-quas  were  equally 
energetic  in  asking  who  Freda  was.  The  ball 
room  buzzed  with  her  name.  It  was  on 
everybody's  lips.  Grizzled  "  sour-dough  boys," 
day-laborers  at  the  mines  but  proud  of  their 
degree,  either  patronized  the  spruce-looking 
tenderfeet  and  lied  eloquently,  —  the  "  sour 
dough  boys  "  being  specially  created  to  toy 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  KING  183 

with  truth,  —  or  gave  them  savage  looks  of 
indignation  because  of  their  ignorance.  Per 
haps  forty  kings  of  the  Upper  and  Lower 
Countries  were  on  the  floor,  each  deeming 
himself  hot  on  the  trail  and  sturdily  backing 
his  judgment  with  the  yellow  dust  of  the 
realm.  An  assistant  was  sent  to  the  man  at 
the  scales,  upon  whom  had  fallen  the  burden 
of  weighing  up  the  sacks,  while  several  of 
the  gamblers,  with  the  rules  of  chance  at  their 
finger-ends,  made  up  alluring  books  on  the 
field  and  favorites. 

Which  was  Freda  ?  Time  and  again  the 
Greek  dancer  was  thought  to  have  been  dis 
covered,  but  each  discovery  brought  panic  to 
the  betting  ring  and  a  frantic  registering  of 
new  wagers  by  those  who  wished  to  hedge. 
Malemute  Kid  took  an  interest  in  the  hunt, 
his  advent  being  hailed  uproariously  by  the 
revelers,  who  knew  him  to  a  man.  The  Kid 
had  a  good  eye  for  the  trick  of  a  step,  and 
ear  for  the  lilt  of  a  voice,  and  his  private  choice 
was  a  marvelous  creature  who  scintillated  as 
the  "  Aurora  Borealis."  But  the  Greek 
dancer  was  too  subtle  for  even  his  penetration. 
The  majority  of  the  gold-hunters  seemed  to 
have  centred  their  verdict  on  the  "  Kussian 


184  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

Princess/'  who  was  the  most  graceful  in  the 
room,  and  hence  could  be  no  other  than  Freda 
Moloof. 

During  a  quadrille  a  roar  of  satisfaction 
went  up.  She  was  discovered.  At  previous 
balls,  in  the  figure  "  all  hands  round,"  Freda 
had  displayed  an  inimitable  step  and  variation 
peculiarly  her  own.  As  the  figure  was  called, 
the  "  Russian  Princess "  gave  the  unique 
rhythm  to  limb  and  body.  A  chorus  of  I-told- 
you-so's  shook  the  squared  roof-beams,  when 
lo  !  it  was  noticed  that  the  "  Aurora  Borealis  " 
and  another  mask,  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Pole," 
were  performing  the  same  trick  equally  well. 
And  when  two  twin  "  Sun-Dogs  "  and  a  "  Frost 
Queen  "  followed  suit,  a  second  assistant  was 
dispatched  to  the  aid  of  the  man  at  the  scales. 

Bettles  came  off  trail  in  the  midst  of  the 
excitement,  descending  upon  them  in  a  hur 
ricane  of  frost.  His  rimed  brows  turned  to 
cataracts  as  he  whirled  about ;  his  mustache, 
still  frozen,  seemed  gemmed  with  diamonds 
and  turned  the  light  in  vari-colored  rays  ; 
while  the  flying  feet  slipped  on  the  chunks  of 
ice  which  rattled  from  his  moccasins  and  Ger 
man  socks.  A  Northland  dance  is  quite  an 
informal  affair,  the  men  of  the  creeks  and 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  KING  185 

trails  having  lost  whatever  fastidiousness  they 
may  have  at  one  time  possessed;  and  only 
in  the  high  official  circles  are  conventions  at 
all  observed.  Here,  caste  carried  no  signifi 
cance.  Millionaires  and  paupers,  dog-drivers 
and  mounted  policemen,  joined  hands  with 
"  ladies  in  the  centre,"  and  swept  around  the 
circle  performing  most  remarkable  capers. 
Primitive  in  their  pleasures,  boisterous  and 
rough,  they  displayed  no  rudeness,  but  rather 
a  crude  chivalry  as  genuine  as  the  most  pol 
ished  courtesy. 

In  his  quest  for  the  Greek  dancer,  Cal 
Galbraith  managed  to  get  into  the  same  set 
with  the  "  Russian  Princess,"  toward  whom 
popular  suspicion  had  turned.  But  by  the 
time  he  had  guided  her  through  one  dance, 
he  was  willing  not  only  to  stake  his  millions 
that  she  was  not  Freda,  but  that  he  had  had 
his  arm  about  her  waist  before.  When  or 
where  he  could  not  tell,  but  the  puzzling  sense 
of  familiarity  so  wrought  upon  him  that  he 
turned  his  attention  to  the  discovery  of  her 
identity.  Malemute  Kid  might  have  aided  him 
instead  of  occasionally  taking  the  "  Princess  " 
for  a  few  turns  and  talking  earnestly  to  her  in 
low  tones.  But  it  was  Jack  Harrington  who 


186  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

paid  the  "  Russian  Princess"  the  most  assidu 
ous  court.  Once  he  drew  Cal  Galbraith  aside 
and  hazarded  wild  guesses  as  to  who  she  was, 
and  explained  to  him  that  he  was  going  in 
to  win.  This  rankled  the  Circle  City  king, 
for  man  is  not  by  nature  monogamies,  and  he 
forgot  both  Madeline  and  Freda  in  the  new 
quest. 

It  was  soon  noised  about  that  the  "  Russian 
Princess"  was  not  Freda  Moloof.  Interest 
deepened.  Here  was  a  fresh  enigma.  They 
knew  Freda  though  they  could  not  find  her, 
but  here  was  somebody  they  had  found  and 
did  not  know.  Even  the  women  could  not 
place  her,  and  they  knew  every  good  dancer 
in  the  camp.  Many  took  her  for  one  of  the 
official  clique,  indulging  in  a  silly  escapade. 
Not  a  few  asserted  she  would  disappear  before 
the  unmasking.  Others  were  equally  positive 
that  she  was  the  woman  reporter  of  the  Kan 
sas  City  "  Star,"  come  to  write  them  up  at 
ninety  dollars  per  column.  And  the  men  at 
the  scales  worked  busily. 

At  one  o'clock  every  couple  took  to  the 
floor.  The  unmasking  began  amid  laughter 
and  delight,  like  that  of  care-free  children. 
There  was  no  end  of  oh's  and  all's  as  mask 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  KING  187 

after  mask  was  lifted.  The  scintillating 
"  Aurora  Borealis  "  became  the  brawny  ne- 
gress  whose  income  from  washing  the  com 
munity's  clothes  ran  at  about  five  hundred  a 
month.  The  twin  "  Sun-Dogs  "  discovered 
mustaches  on  their  upper  lips,  and  were  recog 
nized  as  brother  fraction-kings  of  Eldorado. 
In  one  of  the  most  prominent  sets,  and 
the  slowest  in  uncovering,  was  Cal  Galbraith 
with  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Pole."  Opposite  him 
was  Jack  Harrington  and  the  "  Russian  Prin 
cess."  The  rest  had  discovered  themselves, 
yet  the  Greek  dancer  was  still  missing.  All 
eyes  were  upon  the  group.  Cal  Galbraith, 
in  response  to  their  cries,  lifted  his  partner's 
mask.  Freda's  wonderful  face  and  brilliant 
eyes  flashed  out  upon  them.  A  roar  went 
up,  to  be  hushed  suddenly  in  the  new  and 
absorbing  mystery  of  the  "  Russian  Princess." 
Her  face  was  still  hidden,  and  Jack  Harring 
ton  was  struggling  with  her.  The  dancers 
tittered  on  the  tiptoes  of  expectancy.  He 
crushed  her  dainty  costume  roughly,  and 
then  —  and  then  the  revelers  exploded.  The 
joke  was  on  them.  They  had  danced  all 
night  with  a  tabooed  native  woman. 

But  those  that  knew,  and  they  were  many, 


188  THE  SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

ceased  abruptly,  and  a  hush  fell  upon  the 
room.  Cal  Galbraith  crossed  over  with  great 
strides,  angrily,  and  spoke  to  Madeline  in 
polyglot  Chinook.  But  she  retained  her 
composure,  apparently  oblivious  to  the  fact 
that  she  was  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  and 
answered  him  in  English.  She  showed  neither 
fright  nor  anger,  and  Malemute  Kid  chuckled 
at  her  well-bred  equanimity.  The  king  felt 
baffled,  defeated  ;  his  common  Siwash  wife 
had  passed  beyond  him. 

"  Come  !  "  he  said  finally.  "  Come  on 
home." 

"I  beg  pardon,"  she  replied;  "I  have 
agreed  to  go  to  supper  with  Mr.  Harrington. 
Besides,  there  's  no  end  of  dances  promised." 

Harrington  extended  his  arm  to  lead  her 
away.  He  evinced  not  the  slightest  disin 
clination  toward  showing  his  back,  but  Male- 
mute  Kid  had  by  this  time  edged  in  closer. 
The  Circle  City  king  was  stunned.  Twice 
his  hand  dropped  to  his  belt,  and  twice  the 
Kid  gathered  himself  to  spring ;  but  the  re 
treating  couple  passed  safely  through  the  sup 
per-room  door,  where  canned  oysters  were 
spread  at  five  dollars  the  plate.  The  crowd 
sighed  audibly,  broke  up  into  couples,  and 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  KING  189 

followed  them.  Freda  pouted  and  went  in 
with  Cal  Galbraith;  but  she  had  a  good  heart 
and  a  sure  tongue,  and  she  spoiled  his  oysters 
for  him.  What  she  said  is  of  no  importance, 
but  his  face  went  red  and  white  at  intervals, 
and  he  swore  repeatedly  and  savagely  at 
himself. 

The  supper-room  was  rilled  with  a  pande 
monium  of  voices,  which  ceased  suddenly  as 
Cal  Galbraith  stepped  over  to  his  wife's  table. 
Since  the  unmasking  considerable  weights  of 
dust  had  been  placed  as  to  the  outcome. 
Everybody  watched  with  breathless  interest. 
Harrington's  blue  eyes  were  steady,  but  under 
the  over-hanging  tablecloth  a  Smith  &  Wes 
son  balanced  on  his  knee.  Madeline  looked 
up,  casually,  with  little  interest. 

"  May  —  may  I  have  the  next  round  dance 
with  you  ?  "  the  king  stuttered. 

The  wife  of  the  king  glanced  at  her  card 
and  inclined  her  head. 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH 


THE  sleds  were  singing  their  eternal  lament 
to  the  creaking  of  the  harnesses  and  the  tin 
kling  bells  of  the  leaders ;  but  the  men  and 
doors  were  tired  and  made  no  sound.  The 

o 

trail  was  heavy  with  new-fallen  snow,  and 
they  had  come  far,  and  the  runners,  bur 
dened  with  flint-like  quarters  of  frozen  moose, 
clung  tenaciously  to  the  unpacked  surface 
and  held  back  with  a  stubbornness  almost 
human.  Darkness  was  coming  on,  but  there 
was  no  camp  to  pitch  that  night.  The  snow 
fell  gently  through  the  pulseless  air,  not  in 
flakes,  but  in  tiny  frost  crystals  of  delicate 
design.  It  was  very  warm,  —  barely  ten 
below  zero,  —  and  the  men  did  not  mind. 
Meyers  and  Bettles  had  raised  their  ear- 
flaps,  while  Malemute  Kid  had  even  taken 
off  his  mittens. 

The  dogs  had  been  fagged  out  early  in  the 
afternoon,  but  they  now  began  to  show  new 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       191 

vigor.  Among  the  more  astute  there  was  a 
certain  restlessness,  —  an  impatience  at  the 
restraint  of  the  traces,  an  indecisive  quick 
ness  of  movement,  a  sniffing  of  snouts  and 
pricking  of  ears.  These  became  incensed  at 
their  more  phlegmatic  brothers,  urging  them 
on  with  numerous  sly  nips  on  their  hinder- 
quarters.  Those,  thus  chidden,  also  con 
tracted  and  helped  spread  the  contagion. 
At  last,  the  leader  of  the  foremost  sled  ut 
tered  a  sharp  whine  of  satisfaction,  crouching 
lower  in  the  snow  and  throwing  himself 
against  the  collar.  The  rest  followed  suit. 
There  was  an  ingathering  of  back-bands,  a 
tightening  of  traces ;  the  sleds  leaped  for 
ward,  and  the  men  clung  to  the  gee-poles, 
violently  accelerating  the  uplift  of  their  feet 
that  they  might  escape  going  under  the  run 
ners.  The  weariness  of  the  day  fell  from 
them,  and  they  whooped  encouragement  to 
the  dogs.  The  animals  responded  with  joy 
ous  yelps.  They  were  swinging  through  the 
gathering  darkness  at  a  rattling  gallop. 

"  Gee  !  Gee !  "  the  men  cried,  each  in  turn, 
as  their  sleds  abruptly  left  the  main-trail, 
heeling  over  on  single  runners  like  luggers 
on  the  wind. 


192  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

Then  came  a  hundred  yards'  dash  to  the 
lighted  parchment  window,  which  told  its 
own  story  of  the  home  cabin,  the  roaring 
Yukon  stove,  and  the  steaming  pots  of  tea. 
But  the  home  cabin  had  been  invaded.  Three 
score  huskies  chorused  defiance,  and  as  many 
furry  forms  precipitated  themselves  upon  the 
dogs  which  drew  the  first  sled.  The  door  was 
flung  open,  and  a  man,  clad  in  the  scarlet  tunic 
of  the  Northwest  Police,  waded  knee-deep 
among  the  furious  brutes,  calmly  and  impar 
tially  dispensing  soothing  justice  with  the  butt 
end  of  a  dog- whip.  After  that,  the  men  shook 
hands ;  and  in  this  wise  was  Malemute  Kid 
welcomed  to  his  own  cabin  by  a  stranger. 

Stanley  Prince,  who  should  have  welcomed 
him,  and  who  was  responsible  for  the  Yukon 
stove  and  hot  tea  aforementioned,  was  busy 
with  his  guests.  There  were  a  dozen  or  so  of 
them,  as  nondescript  a  crowd  as  ever  served 
the  Queen  in  the  enforcement  of  her  laws 
or  the  delivery  of  her  mails.  They  were 
of  many  breeds,  but  their  common  life  had 
formed  of  them  a  certain  type,  —  a  lean 
and  wiry  type,  with  trail-hardened  muscles, 
and  sun-browned  faces,  and  untroubled  souls 
which  gazed  frankly  forth,  clear-eyed  and 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       193 

steady.  They  drove  the  dogs  of  the  Queen, 
wrought  fear  in  the  hearts  of  her  enemies,  ate 
of  her  meagre  fare,  and  were  happy.  They 
had  seen  life,  and  done  deeds,  and  lived  ro 
mances  ;  but  they  did  not  know  it. 

And  they  were  very  much  at  home.  Two 
of  them  were  sprawled  upon  Malemute  Kid's 
bunk,  singing  chansons  which  their  French 
forbears  sang  in  the  days  when  first  they 
entered  the  Northwest-land  and  mated  with 
its  Indian  women.  Bettles'  bunk  had  suf 
fered  a  similar  invasion,  and  three  or  four 
lusty  voyageurs  worked  their  toes  among 
its  blankets  as  they  listened  to  the  tale  of 
one  who  had  served  on  the  boat  brigade 
with  Wolseley  when  he  fought  his  way  to 
Khartoum.  And  when  he  tired,  a  cowboy 
told  of  courts  and  kings  and  lords  and  ladies 
he  had  seen  when  Buffalo  Bill  toured  the 
capitals  of  Europe.  In  a  corner,  two  half- 
breeds,  ancient  comrades  in  a  lost  campaign, 
mended  harnesses  and  talked  of  the  days 
when  the  Northwest  flamed  with  insurrection 
and  Louis  Reil  was  king. 

Rough  jests  and  rougher  jokes  went  up 
and  down,  and  great  hazards  by  trail  and 
river  were  spoken  of  in  the  light  of  com- 


194  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

monplaces,  only  to  be  recalled  by  virtue  of 
some  grain  of  humor  or  ludicrous  happen 
ing.  Prince  was  led  away  by  these  uncrowned 
heroes  who  had  seen  history  made,  who  re 
garded  the  great  and  the  romantic  as  but  the 
ordinary  and  the  incidental  in  the  routine  of 
life.  He  passed  his  precious  tobacco  among 
them  with  lavish  disregard,  and  rusty  chains 
of  reminiscence  were  loosened,  and  forgotten 
odysseys  resurrected  for  his  especial  benefit. 

When  conversation  dropped  and  the  travel 
ers  filled  the  last  pipes  and  unlashed  their 
tight-rolled  sleeping-furs,  Prince  fell  back 
upon  his  comrade  for  further  information. 

"  Well,  you  know  what  the  cowboy  is," 
Malemute  Kid  answered,  beginning  to  unlace 
his  moccasins  ;  "and  it's  not  hard  to  guess  the 
British  blood  in  his  bed-partner.  As  for  the 
rest,  they  're  all  children  of  the  coureurs  du 
bois,  mingled  with  God  knows  how  many 
other  bloods.  The  two  turning  in  by  the 
door  are  the  regulation  '  breeds '  or  bois 
brules.  That  lad  with  the  worsted  breech 
scarf  —  notice  his  eyebrows  and  the  turn  of 
his  jaw  —  shows  a  Scotchman  wept  in  his 
mother's  smoky  tepee.  And  that  handsome- 
looking  fellow  putting  the  capote  under  his 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       195 

head  is  a  French  half -breed,  —  you  heard 
him  talking ;  he  does  n't  like  the  two  In 
dians  turning  in  next  to  him.  You  see,  when 
the  f  breeds  '  rose  under  Reil  the  full-bloods 
kept  the  peace,  and  they  've  not  lost  much 
love  for  one  another  since." 

"  But  I  say,  what 's  that  glum-looking  fel 
low  by  the  stove  ?  I  '11  swear  he  can't  talk 
English.  He  has  n't  opened  his  mouth  all 
night." 

"  You  're  wrong.  He  knows  English  well 
enough.  Did  you  follow  his  eyes  when  he 
listened  ?  I  did.  But  he 's  neither  kith  nor 
kin  to  the  others.  When  they  talked  their 
own  patois  you  could  see  he  did  n't  under 
stand.  I  've  been  wondering  myself  what  he 
is.  Let's  find  out." 

"  Fire  a  couple  of  sticks  into  the  stove  !  " 
Malemute  Kid  commanded,  raising  his  voice 
and  looking  squarely  at  the  man  in  question. 

He  obeyed  at  once. 

"Had  discipline  knocked  into  him  some 
where,"  Prince  commented  in  a  low  tone. 

Malemute  Kid  nodded,  took  off  his  socks, 
and  picked  his  way  among  the  recumbent 
men  to  the  stove.  There  he  hung  his  damp 
footgear  among  a  score  or  so  of  mates. 


196  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  get  to  Dawson  ?  " 
he  asked  tentatively. 

The  man  studied  him  a  moment  before 
replying.  "  They  say  seventy-five  mile.  So  ? 
Maybe  two  days." 

The  very  slightest  accent  was  perceptible, 
while  there  was  no  awkward  hesitancy  or 
groping  for  words. 

"  Been  in  the  country  before  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Northwest  Territory  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Born  there  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  where  the  devil  were  you  born  ? 
You  're  none  of  these."  Malemute  Kid 
swept  his  hand  over  the  dog-drivers,  even  in 
cluding  the  two  policemen  who  had  turned 
into  Prince's  bunk.  "  Where  did  you  come 
from?  I've  seen  faces  like  yours  before, 
though  I  can't  remember  just  where." 

"  I  know  you,"  he  irrelevantly  replied,  at 
once  turning  the  drift  of  Malemute  Kid's 
questions. 

"Where?     Ever  see  me?" 

"  No ;  your  partner,  him  priest,  Pastilik, 
long  time  ago.  Him  ask  me  if  I  see  you, 


AN   ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       197 

Malemnte  Kid.  Him  give  me  grub.  I  no 
stop  long.  You  hear  him  speak  'bout  me  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  you  're  the  fellow  that  traded  the 
otter  skins  for  the  dogs  ?  " 

The  man  nodded,  knocked  out  his  pipe, 
and  signified  his  disinclination  for  conversa 
tion  by  rolling  up  in  his  furs.  Malemute  Kid 
blew  out  the  slush-lamp  and  crawled  under 
the  blankets  with  Prince. 

"  Well,  what  is  he  ?  " 

"Don't  know  —  turned  me  off,  somehow, 
and  then  shut  up  like  a  clam.  But  he  's  a 
fellow  to  whet  your  curiosity.  I  've  heard 
of  him.  All  the  Coast  wondered  about  him 
eight  years  ago.  Sort  of  mysterious,  you 
know.  He  came  down  out  of  the  North,  in 
the  dead  of  winter,  many  a  thousand  miles 
from  here,  skirting  Bering  Sea  and  traveling 
as  though  the  devil  were  after  him.  No  one 
ever  learned  where  he  came  from,  but  he 
must  have  come  far.  He  was  badly  travel- 
worn  when  he  got  food  from  the  Swedish 
missionary  on  Golovin  Bay  and  asked  the 
way  south.  We  heard  of  this  afterward. 
Then  he  abandoned  the  shore-line,  heading 
right  across  Norton  Sound.  Terrible  weather, 
snowstorms  and  high  winds,  but  he  pulled 


198  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

through  where  a  thousand  other  men  would 

o 

have  died,  missing  St.  Michael's  and  making 
the  land  at  Pastilik.  He  'd  lost  all  but  two 
dogs,  and  was  nearly  gone  with  starvation. 

"  He  was  so  anxious  to  go  on  that  Father 
Koubeau  fitted  him  out  with  grub ;  but  he 
could  n't  let  him  have  any  dogs,  for  he  was 
only  waiting  my  arrival  to  go  on  a  trip  him 
self.  Mr.  Ulysses  knew  too  much  to  start 
on  without  animals,  and  fretted  around  for 
several  days.  He  had  on  his  sled  a  bunch  of 
beautifully  cured  otter  skins,  sea-otters,  you 
know,  worth  their  weight  in  gold.  There 
was  also  at  Pastilik  an  old  Shylock  of  a  Kus- 
sian  trader,  who  had  dogs  to  kill.  Well, 
they  didn't  dicker  very  long,  but  when  the 
Strange  One  headed  south  again,  it  was  in 
the  rear  of  a  spanking  dog-team.  Mr.  Shy- 
lock,  by  the  way,  had  the  otter  skins.  I  saw 
them,  and  they  were  magnificent.  We  fig 
ured  it  up  and  found  the  dogs  brought  him 
at  least  five  hundred  apiece.  And  it  was  n't 
as  if  the  Strange  One  did  n't  know  the  value 
of  sea-otter  ;  he  was  an  Indian  of  some  sort, 
and  what  little  he  talked  showed  he  'd  been 
among  white  men. 

"  After  the  ice  passed  out  of  the  Sea,  word 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF   THE   NORTH       199 

came  up  from  Nunivak  Island  that  he  'd  gone 
in  there  for  grub.  Then  he  dropped  from 
sight,  and  this  is  the  first  heard  of  him  in 
eight  years.  Now  where  did  he  come  from  ? 
and  what  was  he  doing  there  ?  and  why  did 
he  come  from  there  ?  He 's  Indian,  he  's 
been  nobody  knows  where,  and  he 's  had  dis 
cipline,  which  is  unusual  for  an  Indian.  An 
other  mystery  of  the  North  for  you  to  solve, 
Prince." 

"  Thanks,  awfully ;  but  I  've  got  too  many 
on  hand  as  it  is,"  he  replied. 

Malemute  Kid  was  already  breathing  heav 
ily;  but  the  young  mining  engineer  gazed 
straight  up  through  the  thick  darkness,  wait 
ing  for  the  strange  orgasm  which  stirred  his 
blood  to  die  away.  And  when  he  did  sleep, 
his  brain  worked  on,  and  for  the  nonce  he, 
too,  wandered  through  the  white  unknown, 
struggled  with  the  dogs  on  endless  trails,  and 
saw  men  live,  and  toil,  and  die  like  men. 

The  next  morning,  hours  before  daylight, 
the  dog-drivers  and  policemen  pulled  out  for 
Dawson.  But  the  powers  that  saw  to  her 
Majesty's  interests,  and  ruled  the  destinies  of 
her  lesser  creatures,  gave  the  mailmen  little 


200  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

rest;  for  a  week  later  they  appeared  at 
Stuart  River,  heavily  burdened  with  letters 
for  Salt  Water.  However,  their  dogs  had 
been  replaced  by  fresh  ones ;  but  then,  they 
were  dogs. 

The  men  had  expected  some  sort  of  a  lay 
over  in  which  to  rest  up  ;  besides,  this  Klon 
dike  was  a  new  section  of  the  Northland, 
and  they  had  wished  to  see  a  little  something 
of  the  Golden  City  where  dust  flowed  like 
water,  and  dance  halls  rang  with  never  end 
ing  revelry.  But  they  dried  their  socks  and 
smoked  their  evening  pipes  with  much  the 
same  gusto  as  on  their  former  visit,  though 
one  or  two  bold  spirits  speculated  on  deser 
tion  and  the  possibility  of  crossing  the  un 
explored  Rockies  to  the  east,  and  thence,  by 
the  Mackenzie  Valley,  of  gaining  their  old 
stamping-grounds  in  the  Chippewyan  Coun 
try.  Two  or  three  even  decided  to  return  to 
their  homes  by  that  route  when  their  terms 
of  service  had  expired,  and  they  began  to  lay 
plans  forthwith,  looking  forward  to  the  haz 
ardous  undertaking  in  much  the  same  way  a 
city-bred  man  would  to  a  day's  holiday  in  the 
woods. 

He  of  the  Otter  Skins  seemed  very  restless, 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE   NORTH       201 

though  he  took  little  interest  in  the  discus 
sion,  and  at  last  he  drew  Malemute  Kid  to 
one  side  and  talked  for  some  time  in  low  tones. 
Prince  cast  curious  eyes  in  their  direction,  and 
the  mystery  deepened  when  they  put  on  caps 
and  mittens,  and  went  outside.  When  they 
returned,  Malemute  Kid  placed  his  gold-scales 
on  the  table,  weighed  out  the  matter  of  sixty 
ounces,  and  transferred  them  to  the  Strange 
One's  sack.  Then  the  chief  of  the  dog- 
drivers  joined  the  conclave,  and  certain  busi 
ness  was  transacted  with  him.  The  next  day 
the  gang  went  on  up  river,  but  He  of  the 
Otter  Skins  took  several  pounds  of  grub  and 
turned  his  steps  back  toward  Dawson. 

"  Did  n't  know  what  to  make  of  it,"  said 
Malemute  Kid  in  response  to  Prince's  queries ; 
"  but  the  poor  beggar  wanted  to  be  quit  of 
the  service  for  some  reason  or  other  —  at 
least  it  seemed  a  most  important  one  to  him, 
though  he  wouldn't  let  on  what.  You  see, 
it 's  just  like  the  army ;  he  signed  for  two 
years,  and  the  only  way  to  get  free  was  to 
buy  himself  out.  He  could  n't  desert  and 
then  stay  here,  and  he  was  just  wild  to  re 
main  in  the  country.  Made  up  his  mind 


202  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

when  he  got  to  Dawson,  he  said ;  but  no 
one  knew  him,  had  n't  a  cent,  and  I  was  the 
only  one  he  'd  spoken  two  words  with.  So 
he  talked  it  over  with  the  Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor,  and  made  arrangements  in  case  he 
could  get  the  money  from  me  —  loan,  you 
know.  Said  he  'd  pay  back  in  the  year,  and 
if  I  wanted,  would  put  me  onto  something 
rich.  Never  'd  seen  it,  but  knew  it  was  rich. 
"  And  talk  !  why,  when  he  got  me  outside 
he  was  ready  to  weep.  Begged  and  pleaded  ; 
got  down  in  the  snow  to  me  till  I  hauled 
him  out  of  it.  Palavered  around  like  a  crazy 
man.  Swore  he's  worked  to  this  very  end 
for  years  and  years,  and  could  n't  bear  to  be 
disappointed  now.  Asked  him  what  end, 
but  he  would  n't  say.  Said  they  might  keep 
him  on  the  other  half  of  the  trail  and  he 
would  n't  get  to  Dawson  in  two  years,  and 
then  it  would  be  too  late.  Never  saw  a  man 
take  on  so  in  my  life.  And  when  I  said  I  'd 
let  him  have  it,  had  to  yank  him  out  of  the 
snow  again.  Told  him  to  consider  it  in  the 
light  of  a  grub-stake.  Think  he  'd  have  it  ? 
No,  sir  !  Swore  he  'd  give  me  all  he  found, 
make  me  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice, 
and  all  such  stuff.  Now  a  man  who  puts  his 


AN  ODYSSEY   OF  THE  NORTH       203 

life  and  time  against  a  grub-stake  ordinarily 
finds  it  hard  enough  to  turn  over  half  of 
what  he  finds.  Something  behind  all  this, 
Prince  ;  just  you  make  a  note  of  it.  We  '11 
hear  of  him  if  he  stays  in  the  country  "  — 

"  And  if  he  does  n't  ?  " 

"  Then  my  good  nature  gets  a  shock,  and 
I  'm  sixty  some  odd  ounces  out." 

The  cold  weather  had  come  on  with  the 
long  nights,  and  the  sun  had  begun  to  play 
his  ancient  game  of  peekaboo  along  the 
southern  snow-line  ere  aught  was  heard  of 
Malemute  Kid's  grub-stake.  And  then,  one 
bleak  morning  in  early  January,  a  heavily 
laden  dog-train  pulled  into  his  cabin  below 
Stuart  Eiver.  He  of  the  Otter  Skins  was 
there,  and  with  him  walked  a  man  such  as 
the  gods  have  almost  forgotten  how  to  fash 
ion.  Men  never  talked  of  luck  and  pluck  and 
five-hundred-dollar  dirt  without  bringing  in 
the  name  of  Axel  Gunderson ;  nor  could  tales 
of  nerve  or  strength  or  daring  pass  up  and 
down  the  camp-fire  without  the  summoning 
of  his  presence.  And  when  the  conversation 
flagged,  it  blazed  anew  at  mention  of  the 
woman  who  shared  his  fortunes. 


204  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

As  has  been  noted,  in  the  making  of  Axel 
Gunderson  the  gods  had  remembered  their 
old-time  cunning,  and  cast  him  after  the 
manner  of  men  who  were  born  when  the 
world  was  young.  Full  seven  feet  he  tow 
ered  in  his  picturesque  costume  which  marked 
a  king  of  Eldorado.  His  chest,  neck,  and 
limbs  were  those  of  a  giant.  To  bear  his 
three  hundred  pounds  of  bone  and  muscle, 
his  snowshoes  were  greater  by  a  generous 
yard  than  those  of  other  men.  Rough-hewn, 
with  rugged  brow  and  massive  jaw  and  un 
flinching  eyes  of  palest  blue,  his  face  told  the 
tale  of  one  who  knew  but  the  law  of  might. 
Of  the  yellow  of  ripe  corn  silk,  his  frost- 
incrusted  hair  swept  like  day  across  the 
night,  and  fell  far  down  his  coat  of  bear 
skin.  A  vague  tradition  of  the  sea  seemed 
to  cling  about  him,  as  he  swung  down  the 
narrow  trail  in  advance  of  the  dogs ;  and  he 
brought  the  butt  of  his  dog-whip  against 
Malemute  Kid's  door  as  a  Norse  sea  rover,  on 
southern  foray,  might  thunder  for  admittance 
at  the  castle  gate. 

Prince  bared  his  womanly  arms  and 
kneaded  sour-dough  bread,  casting,  as  he 
did  so,  many  a  glance  at  the  three  guests, 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE  NORTH       205 

—  three  guests  the  like  of  which  might  never 
come  under  a  man's  roof  in  a  lifetime.  The 
Strange  One,  whom  Malemute  Kid  had  sur- 
named  Ulysses,  still  fascinated  him ;  but 
his  interest  chiefly  gravitated  between  Axel 
Gunderson  and  Axel  Gunderson's  wife.  She 
felt  the  day's  journey,  for  she  had  softened 
in  comfortable  cabins  during  the  many  days 
since  her  husband  mastered  the  wealth  of 
frozen  pay-streaks,  and  she  was  tired.  She 
rested  against  his  great  breast  like  a  slender 
flower  against  a  wall,  replying  lazily  to  Male- 
mute  Kid's  good-natured  banter,  and  stirring 
Prince's  blood  strangely  with  an  occasional 
sweep  of  her  deep,  dark  eyes.  For  Prince 
was  a  man,  and  healthy,  and  had  seen  few 
women  in  many  months.  And  she  was  older 
than  he,  and  an  Indian  besides.  But  she  was 
different  from  all  native  wives  he  had  met : 
she  had  traveled,  —  had  been  in  his  coun 
try  among  others,  he  gathered  from  the  con 
versation  ;  and  she  knew  most  of  the  things 
the  women  of  his  own  race  knew,  and  much 
more  that  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things 
for  them  to  know.  She  could  make  a  meal 
of  sun-dried  fish  or  a  bed  in  the  snow ;  yet 
she  teased  them  with  tantalizing  details  of 


206  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

many-course  dinners,  and  caused  strange  in 
ternal  dissensions  to  arise  at  the  mention  of 
various  quondam  dishes  which  they  had  well- 
nigh  forgotten.  She  knew  the  ways  of  the 
moose,  the  bear,  and  the  little  blue  fox,  and 
of  the  wild  amphibians  of  the  Northern  seas; 
she  was  skilled  in  the  lore  of  the  woods  and 
the  streams,  and  the  tale  writ  by  man  and 
bird  and  beast  upon  the  delicate  snow  crust 
was  to  her  an  open  book ;  yet  Prince  caught 
the  appreciative  twinkle  in  her  eye  as  she 
read  the  Rules  of  the  Camp.  These  rules 
had  been  fathered  by  the  Unquenchable  Bet- 
ties  at  a  time  when  his  blood  ran  high,  and 
were  remarkable  for  the  terse  simplicity  of 
their  humor.  Prince  always  turned  them  to 
the  wall  before  the  arrival  of  ladies ;  but  who 
could  suspect  that  this  native  wife  —  Well, 
it  was  too  late  now. 

This,  then,  was  the  wife  of  Axel  Gunder- 
son,  a  woman  whose  name  and  fame  had 
traveled  with  her  husband's,  hand  in  hand, 
through  all  the  Northland.  At  table,  Male- 
mute  Kid  baited  her  with  the  assurance  of 
an  old  friend,  and  Prince  shook  off  the  shy 
ness  of  first  acquaintance  and  joined  in.  But 
she  held  her  own  in  the  unequal  contest,  while 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF   THE   NORTH       207 

her  husband,  slower  in  wit,  ventured  naught 
but  applause.  And  he  was  very  proud  of 
her ;  his  every  look  and  action  revealed  the 
magnitude  of  the  place  she  occupied  in  his 
life.  He  of  the  Otter  Skins  ate  in  silence, 
forgotten  in  the  merry  battle ;  and  long  ere 
the  others  were  done  he  pushed  back  from 
the  table  and  went  out  among  the  dogs.  Yet 
all  too  soon  his  fellow  travelers  drew  on  their 
mittens  and  parkas,  and  followed  him. 

There  had  been  no  snow  for  many  days, 
and  the  sleds  slipped  along  the  hard-packed 
Yukon  trail  as  easily  as  if  it  had  been  glare 
ice.  Ulysses  led  the  first  sled ;  with  the  sec 
ond  came  Prince  and  Axel  Gunderson's  wife  ; 
while  Malemute  Kid  and  the  yellow-haired 
giant  brought  up  the  third. 

"It's  only  a  '  hunch,'  Kid,"  he  said; 
"  but  I  think  it 's  straight.  He  's  never  been 
there,  but  he  tells  a  good  story,  and  shows  a 
map  I  heard  of  when  I  was  in  the  Kootenay 
country,  years  ago.  I  'd  like  to  have  you  go 
along  ;  but  he  's  a  strange  one,  and  swore 
point-blank  to  throw  it  up  if  any  one  was 
brought  in.  But  when  I  come  back  you  '11  get 
first  tip,  and  I  '11  stake  you  next  to  me,  and 
give  you  a  half  share  in  the  town  site  besides. 


208  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

"  No  !  no ! "  he  cried,  as  the  other  strove 
to  interrupt.  "  I  'm  running  this,  and  before 
I  'm  done  it  '11  need  two  heads.  If  it  's  all 
right,  why  it'll  be  a  second  Cripple  Creek, 
man  ;  do  you  hear  ?  —  a  second  Cripple 
Creek  !  It 's  quartz,  you  know,  not  placer  ; 
and  if  we  work  it  right  we  '11  corral  the  whole 
thing,  —  millions  upon  millions.  I  've  heard 
of  the  place  before,  and  so  have  you.  We  '11 
build  a  town  —  thousands  of  workmen  — 
good  waterways  —  steamship  lines  —  big  car 
rying  trade  —  light-draught  steamers  for 
head  -  reaches  —  survey  a  railroad,  perhaps 
—  sawmills  —  electric  -  light  plant  —  do  our 
own  banking  —  commercial  company  —  syn 
dicate —  Say!  just  you  hold  your  hush  till 
I  get  back  !  " 

The  sleds  came  to  a  halt  where  the  trail 
crossed  the  mouth  of  Stuart  River.  An  un 
broken  sea  of  frost,  its  wide  expanse  stretched 
away  into  the  unknown  east.  The  snow- 
shoes  were  withdrawn  from  the  lashings  of 
the  sleds.  Axel  Gunderson  shook  hands  and 
stepped  to  the  fore,  his  great  webbed  shoes 
sinking  a  fair  half  yard  into  the  feathery  sur 
face  and  packing  the  snow  so  the  dogs  should 
not  wallow.  His  wife  fell  in  behind  the  last 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       209 

sled,  betraying  long  practice  in  the  art  of 
handling  the  awkward  footgear.  The  still 
ness  was  broken  with  cheery  farewells;  the 
dogs  whined;  and  He  of  the  Otter  Skins 
talked  with  his  whip  to  a  recalcitrant  wheeler. 
An  hour  later,  the  train  had  taken  on  the 
likeness  of  a  black  pencil  crawling  in  a  long, 
straight  line  across  a  mighty  sheet  of  fools 
cap. 

ii 

One  night,  many  weeks  later,  Malemute 
Kid  and  Prince  fell  to  solving  chess  problems 
from  the  torn  page  of  an  ancient  magazine. 
The  Kid  had  just  returned  from  his  Bonanza 
properties,  and  was  resting  up  preparatory  to 
a  long  moose  hunt.  Prince  too  had  been  on 
creek  and  trail  nearly  all  winter,  and  had 
grown  hungry  for  a  blissful  week  of  cabin 
life. 

"  Interpose  the  black  knight,  and  force  the 
king.  No,  that  won't  do.  See,  the  next 


move  "  — 


"Why  advance  the  pawn  two  squares? 
Bound  to  take  it  in  transit,  and  with  the 
bishop  out  of  the  way  "  — 

"  But  hold  on !  That  leaves  a  hole, 
and"  — 


210  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

"  No ;  it 's  protected.  Go  ahead  !  You  '11 
see  it  works." 

It  was  very  interesting.  Somebody  knocked 
at  the  door  a  second  time  before  Malemute 
Kid  said,  "  Come  in."  The  door  swung  open. 
Something  staggered  in.  Prince  caught  one 
square  look,  and  sprang  to  his  feet.  The 
horror  in  his  eyes  caused  Malemute  Kid 
to  whirl  about ;  and  he  too  was  startled, 
ihough  he  had  seen  bad  things  before.  The 
thing  tottered  blindly  toward  them.  Prince 
edged  away  till  he  reached  the  nail  from 
which  hung  his  Smith  &  Wesson. 

"  My  God  !  what  is  it  ?  "  he  whispered  to 
Malemute  Kid. 

"  Don't  know.  Looks  like  a  case  of  freez 
ing  and  no  grub,"  replied  the  Kid,  sliding 
away  in  the  opposite  direction.  "  Watch 
out !  It  may  be  mad,"  he  warned,  coming 
back  from  closing  the  door. 

The  thing  advanced   to   the   table.     The 

o 

bright  flame  of  the  slush-lamp  caught  its  eye. 
It  was  amused,  and  gave  voice  to  eldritch 
cackles  which  betokened  mirth.  Then,  sud 
denly,  he  —  for  it  was  a  man  —  swayed  back, 
with  a  hitch  to  his  skin  trousers,  and  began 
to  sing  a  chanty,  such  as  men  lift  when  they 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE   NORTH       211 

swing  around  the  capstan  circle  and  the  sea 
snorts  in  their  ears  :  — 

"  Yan-kee  ship  come  down  de  ri-ib-er, 

Pull !  iny  bully  boys  !  Pull  ! 
D'yeh  want  —  to  know  de  captain  ru-uns  her  ? 

Pull !  my  bully  boys  !  Pull ! 
Jon-a-than  Jones  ob  South  Caho-li-in-a, 

Pull!  my  bully"  — 

He  broke  off  abruptly,  tottered  with  a  wolf 
ish  snarl  to  the  meat-shelf,  and  before  they 
could  intercept  was  tearing  with  his  teeth  at  a 
chunk  of  raw  bacon.  The  struggle  was  fierce 
between  him  and  Malemute  Kid ;  but  his  mad 
strength  left  him  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come, 
and  he  weakly  surrendered  the  spoil.  Between 
them  they  got  him  upon  a  stool,  where  he 
sprawled  with  half  his  body  across  the  table. 
A  small  dose  of  whiskey  strengthened  him, 
so  that  he  could  dip  a  spoon  into  the  sugar 
caddy  which  Malemute  Kid  placed  before  him. 
After  his  appetite  had  been  somewhat  cloyed, 
Prince,  shuddering  as  he  did  so,  passed  him  a 
mug  of  weak  beef  tea. 

The  creature's  eyes  were  alight  with  a  som 
bre  frenzy,  which  blazed  and  waned  with 
every  mouthful.  There  was  very  little  skin 
to  the  face.  The  face,  for  that  matter,  sunken 
and  emaciated,  bore  very  little  likeness  to 


212  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

human  countenance.  Frost  after  frost  had  bit 
ten  deeply,  each  depositing  its  stratum  of  scab 
upon  the  half-healed  scar  that  went  before. 
This  dry,  hard  surface  was  of  a  bloody-black 
color,  serrated  by  grievous  cracks  wherein 
the  raw  red  flesh  peeped  forth.  His  skin 
garments  were  dirty  and  in  tatters,  and  the 
fur  of  one  side  was  singed  and  burned  away, 
showing  where  he  had  lain  upon  his  fire. 

Malemute  Kid  pointed  to  where  the  sun 
tanned  hide  had  been  cut  away,  strip  by  strip, 
—  the  grim  signature  of  famine. 

"  Who  —  are  —  you  ?  "  slowly  and  dis 
tinctly  enunciated  the  Kid. 

The  man  paid  no  heed. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Yan-kee  ship  come  down  de  ri-ib-er," 
was  the  quavering  response. 

"  Don't  doubt  the  beggar  came  down  the 
river,"  the  Kid  said,  shaking  him  in  an  en 
deavor  to  start  a  more  lucid  flow  of  talk. 

But  the  man  shrieked  at  the  contact,  clap 
ping  a  hand  to  his  side  in  evident  pain.  He 
rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  half  leaning  on  the 
table. 

"  She  laughed  at  me  —  so  —  with  the  hate 
in  her  eye ;  and  she  —  would  —  not  —  come." 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE   NORTH       213 

His  voice  died  away,  and  he  was  sinking 
back  when  Malemute  Kid  gripped  him  by 
the  wrist,  and  shouted,  "  Who  ?  Who  would 
not  come  ?  " 

"  She,  Unga.  She  laughed,  and  struck  at 
me,  so,  and  so.  And  then  "  — 

"Yes?" 

"  And  then  "  — 

"  And  then  what  ?  " 

"  And  then  he  lay  very  still,  in  the  snow, 
a  long  time.  He  is  —  still  in  —  the  —  snow." 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  help 
lessly. 

"  Who  is  in  the  snow  ?  " 

"  She,  Unga.  She  looked  at  me  with  the 
hate  in  her  eye,  and  then  "  — 

«  Yes,  yes." 

"And  then  she  took  the  knife,  so;  and 
once,  twice  —  she  was  weak.  I  traveled  very 
slow.  And  there  is  much  gold  in  that  place, 
very  much  gold." 

"  Where  is  Unga  ?  "  For  all  Malemute  Kid 
knew,  she  might  be  dying  a  mile  away.  He 
shook  the  man  savagely,  repeating  again  and 
again,  "Where  is  Unga  ?  Who  is  Unga?  " 

"  She  —  is  —  in  —  the  —  snow." 

"Go  on  ! "  The  Kid  was  pressing  his 
wrist  cruelly. 


214  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

"So  —  I  —  would  —  be  —  in  —  the  snow 
—  but  -  - 1  —  had  —  a  —  debt  —  to  —  pay. 
It  —  was  —  heavy  —  I  —  had  —  a  —  debt  — 
to  —  pay  —  a  -  -  debt  —  to  -  -  pay  —  I  - 
had  "  —  The  faltering  monosyllables  ceased, 
as  he  fumbled  in  his  pouch  and  drew  forth 
a  buckskin  sack.  "  A  —  debt  —  to  —  pay  — 
five  —  pounds  —  of  —  gold  —  grub  —  stake 
-Mai  — e-- mute--  Kid- -I"-  The 
exhausted  head  dropped  upon  the  table ;  nor 
could  Malemute  Kid  rouse  it  again. 

"  It 's  Ulysses,"  he  said  quietly,  tossing 
the  bag  of  dust  on  the  table.  "  Guess  it 's 
all  day  with  Axel  Gunderson  and  the  woman. 
Come  on,  let 's  get  him  between  the  blankets. 
He 's  Indian  ;  he  '11  pull  through,  and  tell  a 
tale  besides." 

As  they  cut  his  garments  from  him,  near 
his  right  breast  could  be  seen  two  unhealed, 
hard-lipped  knife  thrusts. 

in 

"  I  will  talk  of  the  things  which  were,  in 
my  own  way  ;  but  you  will  understand.  I 
will  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  tell  of  my 
self  and  the  woman,  and,  after  that,  of  the 


man." 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       215 

He  of  the  Otter  Skins  drew  over  to  the 
stove  as  do  men  who  have  been  deprived 
of  fire  and  are  afraid  the  Promethean  gift 
may  vanish  at  any  moment.  Malemute  Kid 
pricked  up  the  slush-lamp,  and  placed  it  so 
its  light  might  fall  upon  the  face  of  the  nar 
rator.  Prince  slid  his  body  over  the  edge  of 
the  bunk  and  joined  them. 

"  I  am  Naass,  a  chief,  and  the  son  of  a 
chief,  born  between  a  sunset  and  a  rising,  on 
the  dark  seas,  in  my  father's  oomiak.  All 
of  a  night  the  men  toiled  at  the  paddles,  and 
the  women  cast  out  the  waves  which  threw  in 
upon  us,  and  we  fought  with  the  storm.  The 
salt  spray  froze  upon  my  mother's  breast  till 
her  breath  passed  with  the  passing  of  the 
tide.  But  I,  —  I  raised  my  voice  with  the 
wind  and  the  storm,  and  lived. 

"  We  dwelt  in  Akatan"  — 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Malemute  Kid. 

"  Akatan,  which  is  in  the  Aleutians  ;  Aka 
tan,  beyond  Chignik,  beyond  Kardalak,  be 
yond  Unimak.  As  I  say,  we  dwelt  in  Aka 
tan,  which  lies  in  the  midst  of  the  sea  on  the 
edge  of  the  world.  We  farmed  the  salt  seas 
for  the  fish,  the  seal,  and  the  otter ;  and  our 
homes  shouldered  about  one  another  on  the 


216  THE   SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

rocky  strip  between  the  rim  of  the  forest  and 
the  yellow  beach  where  our  kayaks  lay.  We 
were  not  many,  and  the  world  was  very 
small.  There  were  strange  lands  to  the  east, 
—  islands  like  Akatan  ;  so  we  thought  all 
the  world  was  islands,  and  did  not  mind. 

"  I  was  different  from  my  people.  In  the 
sands  of  the  beach  were  the  crooked  timbers 
and  wave-warped  planks  of  a  boat  such  as 
my  people  never  built;  and  I  remember  on 
the  point  of  the  island  which  overlooked  the 
ocean  three  ways  there  stood  a  pine  tree 
which  never  grew  there,  smooth  and  straight 
and  tall.  It  is  said  the  two  men  came  to 
that  spot,  turn  about,  through  many  days, 
and  watched  with  the  passing  of  the  light. 
These  two  men  came  from  out  of  the  sea  in 
the  boat  which  lay  in  pieces  on  the  beach. 
And  they  were  white  like  you,  and  weak  as 
the  little  children  when  the  seal  have  gone 
away  and  the  hunters  come  home  empty.  I 
know  of  these  things  from  the  old  men  and 
the  old  women,  who  got  them  from  their  fa 
thers  and  mothers  before  them.  These  strange 
white  men  did  not  take  kindly  to  our  ways  at 
first,  but  they  grew  strong,  what  of  the  fish 
and  the  oil,  and  fierce.  And  they  built  them 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE   NORTH        217 

each  his  own  house,  and  took  the  pick  of 
our  women,  and  in  time  children  came.  Thus 
he  was  born  who  was  to  become  the  father  of 
my  father's  father. 

"  As  I  said,  I  was  different  from  my  peo 
ple,  for  I  carried  the  strong,  strange  blood  of 
this  white  man  who  came  out  of  the  sea.  It 
is  said  we  had  other  laws  in  the  days  before 
these  men  ;  but  they  were  fierce  and  quarrel 
some,  and  fought  with  our  men  till  there  were 
no  more  left  who  dared  to  fight.  Then  they 
made  themselves  chiefs,  and  took  away  our 
old  laws  and  gave  us  new  ones,  insomuch 
that  the  man  was  the  son  of  his  father,  and 
not  his  mother,  as  our  way  had  been.  They 
also  ruled  that  the  son,  firstborn,  should  have 
all  things  which  were  his  father's  before  him, 
and  that  the  brothers  and  sisters  should  shift 
for  themselves.  And  they  gave  us  other 
laws.  They  showed  us  new  ways  in  the 
catching  of  fish  and  the  killing  of  bear  which 
were  thick  in  the  woods ;  and  they  taught  us 
to  lay  by  bigger  stores  for  the  time  of  fam 
ine.  And  these  things  were  good. 

"  But  when  they  had  become  chiefs,  and 
there  were  no  more  men  to  face  their  anger, 
they  fought,  these  strange  white  men,  each 


218  THE  SON   OF  THE  WOLF 

with  the  other.  And  the  one  whose  blood  I 
carry  drove  his  seal  spear  the  length  of  an 
arm  through  the  other's  body.  Their  chil 
dren  took  up  the  fight,  and  their  children's 
children  ;  and  there  was  great  hatred  between 
them,  and  black  doings,  even  to  my  time,  so 
that  in  each  family  but  one  lived  to  pass  down 
the  blood  of  them  that  went  before.  Of  my 
blood  I  was  alone  ;  of  the  other  man's  there 
was  but  a  girl,  Unga,  who  lived  with  her 
mother.  Her  father  and  my  father  did  not 
come  back  from  the  fishing  one  night ;  but 
afterward  they  washed  up  to  the  beach  on 
the  big  tides,  and  they  held  very  close  to 
each  other. 

"  The  people  wondered,  because  of  the 
hatred  between  the  houses,  and  the  old  men 
shook  their  heads  and  said  the  fight  would 
go  on  when  children  were  born  to  her  and 
children  to  me.  They  told  me  this  as  a  boy, 
till  I  came  to  believe,  and  to  look  upon  Unga 
as  a  foe,  who  was  to  be  the  mother  of  children 
which  were  to  fight  with  mine.  I  thought  of 
these  things  day  by  day,  and  when  I  grew  to  a 
stripling  I  came  to  ask  why  this  should  be  so. 
And  they  answered,  '  We  do  not  know,  but 
that  in  such  way  your  fathers  did.'  And  I 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF   THE  NORTH        219 

marveled  that  those  which  were  to  come  should 
fight  the  battles  of  those  that  were  gone,  and 
in  it  I  could  see  no  right.  But  the  people 
said  it  must  be,  and  I  was  only  a  stripling. 

"  And  they  said  I  must  hurry,  that  my 
blood  might  be  the  older  and  grow  strong  be 
fore  hers.  This  was  easy,  for  I  was  head 
man,  and  the  people  looked  up  to  me  because 
of  the  deeds  and  the  laws  of  my  fathers,  and 
the  wealth  which  was  mine.  Any  maiden 
would  come  to  me,  but  I  found  none  to  my 
liking.  And  the  old  men  and  the  mothers 
of  maidens  told  me  to  hurry,  for  even  then 
were  the  hunters  bidding  high  to  the  mother 
of  Unga ;  and  should  her  children  grow 
strong  before  mine,  mine  would  surely  die. 

"  Nor  did  I  find  a  maiden  till  one  night 
coming  back  from  the  fishing.  The  sunlight 
was  lying,  so,  low  and  full  in  the  eyes,  the 
wind  free,  and  the  kayaks  racing  with  the 
white  seas.  Of  a  sudden  the  kayak  of  Unga 
came  driving  past  me,  and  she  looked  upon 
me,  so,  with  her  black  hair  flying  like  a  cloud 
of  night  and  the  spray  wet  on  her  cheek. 
As  I  say,  the  sunlight  was  full  in  the  eyes, 
and  I  was  a  stripling ;  but  somehow  it  was 
all  clear,  and  I  knew  it  to  be  the  call  of  kind 


220  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

to  kind.  As  she  whipped  ahead  she  looked 
back  within  the  space  of  two  strokes,  — 
looked  as  only  the  woman  Unga  could  look, 

—  and  again  I  knew  it  as  the  call  of  kind. 
The   people   shouted  as  we  ripped  past  the 
lazy  oomiaks  and  left  them  far  behind.     But 
she  was  quick  at  the  paddle,  and  my  heart 
was  like  the  belly  of  a  sail,  and  I  did  not 
gain.    The  wind  freshened,  the  sea  whitened, 
and,  leaping  like  the  seals  on  the  windward 
breech,  we  roared  down  the  golden  pathway 
of  the  sun." 

Naass  was  crouched  half  out  of  his  stool, 
in  the  attitude  of  one  driving  a  paddle,  as  he 
ran  the  race  anew.  Somewhere  across  the 
stove  he  beheld  the  tossing  kayak  and  the 
flying  hair  of  Unga.  The  voice  of  the  wind 
was  in  his  ears,  and  its  salt  beat  fresh  upon 
his  nostrils. 

"  But  she  made  the  shore,  and  ran  up  the 
sand,  laughing,  to  the  house  of  her  mother. 
And  a  great  thought  came  to  me  that  night, 

—  a  thought  worthy  of  him  that  was  chief 
over  all  the  people  of  Akatan.     So,  when  the 
moon  was  up,  I  went  down  to  the  house  of 
her  mother,  and  looked    upon  the  goods  of 
Yash-Noosh,  which  were  piled  by  the  door,  — 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE   NORTH        221 

the  goods  of  Yash-Noosh,  a  strong  hunter 
who  had  it  in  mind  to  be  the  father  of  the 
children  of  Unga.  Other  young  men  had  piled 
their  goods  there,  and  taken  them  away  again ; 
and  each  young  man  had  made  a  pile  greater 
than  the  one  before. 

"  And  I  laughed  to  the  moon  and  the  stars, 
and  went  to  my  own  house  where  my  wealth 
was  stored.  And  many  trips  I  made,  till  my 
pile  was  greater  by  the  fingers  of  one  hand 
than  the  pile  of  Yash-Noosh.  There  were 
fish,  dried  in  the  sun  and  smoked ;  and  forty 
hides  of  the  hair  seal,  and  half  as  many  of  the 
fur,  and  each  hide  was  tied  at  the  mouth  and 
big-bellied  with  oil ;  and  ten  skins  of  bear 
which  I  killed  in  the  woods  when  they  came 
out  in  the  spring.  And  there  were  beads  and 
blankets  and  scarlet  cloths,  such  as  I  got  in 
trade  from  the  people  who  lived  to  the  east, 
and  who  got  them  in  trade  from  the  people 
who  lived  still  beyond  in  the  east.  And  I 
looked  upon  the  pile  of  Yash-Noosh  and 
laughed  ;  for  I  was  head  man  in  Akatan,  and 
my  wealth  was  greater  than  the  wealth  of  all 
my  young  men,  and  my  fathers  had  done 
deeds,  and  given  laws,  and  put  their  names 
for  all  time  in  the  mouths  of  the  people. 


222  THE  SON    OF  THE  WOLF 

"  So,  when  the  morning  came,  I  went  down 
to  the  beach,  casting  out  of  the  corner  of  my 
eye  at  the  house  of  the  mother  of  Unga. 
My  offer  yet  stood  untouched.  And  the  wo 
men  smiled,  and  said  sly  things  one  to  the 
other.  I  wondered,  for  never  had  such  a 
price  been  offered ;  and  that  night  I  added 
more  to  the  pile,  and  put  beside  it  a  kayak 
of  well-tanned  skins  which  never  yet  had  swam 
in  the  sea.  But  in  the  day  it  was  yet  there, 
open  to  the  laughter  of  all  men.  The  mother 
of  Unga  was  crafty,  and  I  grew  angry  at  the 
shame  in  which  I  stood  before  my  people. 
So  that  night  I  added  till  it  became  a  great 
pile,  and  I  hauled  up  my  oomiak,  which  was 
of  the  value  of  twenty  kayaks.  And  in  the 
morning  there  was  no  pile. 

"  Then  made  I  preparation  for  the  wedding, 
and  the  people  that  lived  even  to  the  east 
came  for  the  food  of  the  feast  and  the  potlach 
token.  Unga  was  older  than  I  by  the  age  of 
four  suns  in  the  way  we  reckoned  the  years. 
I  was  only  a  stripling  ;  but  then  I  was  a  chief, 
and  the  son  of  a  chief,  and  it  did  not  matter. 

"  But  a  ship  shoved  her  sails  above  the 
floor  of  the  ocean,  and  grew  larger  with  the 
breath  of  the  wind.  From  her  scuppers  she 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE   NORTH       223 

ran  clear  water,  and  the  men  were  in  haste 
and  worked  hard  at  the  pumps.  On  the  bow 
stood  a  mighty  man,  watching  the  depth  of 
the  water  and  giving  commands  with  a  voice 
of  thunder.  His  eyes  were  of  the  pale  blue 
of  the  deep  waters,  and  his  head  was  maned 
like  that  of  a  sea  lion.  And  his  hair  was  yel 
low,  like  the  straw  of  a  southern  harvest  or 
the  manila  rope-yarns  which  sailormen  plait. 

"  Of  late  years  we  had  seen  ships  from 
afar,  but  this  was  the  first  to  come  to  the 
beach  of  Akatan.  The  feast  was  broken, 
and  the  women  and  children  fled  to  the 
houses,  while  we  men  strung  our  bows  and 
waited  with  spears  in  hand.  But  when  the 
ship's  forefoot  smelt  the  beach  the  strange 
men  took  no  notice  of  us,  being  busy  with 
their  own  work.  With  the  falling  of  the  tide 
they  careened  the  schooner  and  patched  a 
great  hole  in  her  bottom.  So  the  women 
crept  back,  and  the  feast  went  on. 

"  When  the  tide  rose,  the  sea  wanderers 
kedged  the  schooner  to  deep  water,  and  then 
came  among  us.  They  bore  presents  and  were 
friendly  ;  so  I  made  room  for  them,  and  out 
of  the  largeness  of  my  heart  gave  them  tokens 
such  as  I  gave  all  the  guests ;  for  it  was  my 


224  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

wedding  day,  and  I  was  head  man  in  Akatan. 
And  he  with  the  mane  of  the  sea  lion  was 
there,  so  tall  and  strong  that  one  looked  to 
see  the  earth  shake  with  the  fall  of  his  feet. 
He  looked  much  and  straight  at  Unga,  with 
his  arms  folded,  so,  and  stayed  till  the  sun 
went  away  and  the  stars  came  out.  Then  he 
went  down  to  his  ship.  After  that  I  took 
Unga  by  the  hand  and  led  her  to  my  own 
house.  And  there  was  singing  and  great 
laughter,  and  the  women  said  sly  things,  after 
the  manner  of  women  at  such  times.  But  we 
did  not  care.  Then  the  people  left  us  alone 
and  went  home. 

"  The  last  noise  had  not  died  away,  when 
the  chief  of  the  sea  wanderers  came  in  by  the 
door.  And  he  had  with  him  black  bottles, 
from  which  we  drank  and  made  merry.  You 
see,  I  was  only  a  stripling,  and  had  lived  all 
my  days  on  the  edge  of  the  world.  So  my 
blood  became  as  fire,  and  my  heart  as  light 
as  the  froth  that  flies  from  the  surf  to  the 
cliff.  Unga  sat  silent  among  the  skins  in  the 
corner,  her  eyes  wide,  for  she  seemed  to  fear. 
And  he  with  the  mane  of  the  sea  lion  looked 
upon  her  straight  and  long.  Then  his  men 
came  in  with  bundles  of  goods,  and  he  piled 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF   THE  NORTH       225 

before  me  wealth  such  as  was  not  in  all  Aka- 
tan.  There  were  guns,  both  large  and  small, 
and  powder  and  shot  and  shell,  and  bright 
axes  and  knives  of  steel,  and  cunning  tools, 
and  strange  things  the  like  of  which  I  had 
never  seen.  When  he  showed  me  by  sign 
that  it  was  all  mine,  I  thought  him  a  great 
man  to  be  so  free ;  but  he  showed  me  also 
that  Unga  was  to  go  away  with  him  in  his 
ship.  Do  you  understand  ?  —  that  Unga  was 
to  go  away  with  him  in  his  ship.  The  blood 
of  my  fathers  flamed  hot  on  the  sudden,  and 
I  made  to  drive  him  through  with  my  spear. 
But  the  spirit  of  the  bottles  had  stolen  the 
life  from  my  arm,  and  he  took  me  by  the  neck, 
so,  and  knocked  my  head  against  the  wall  of 
the  house.  And  I  was  made  weak  like  a  new 
born  child,  and  my  legs  would  no  more  stand 
under  me.  Unga  screamed,  and  she  laid  hold 
of  the  things  of  the  house  with  her  hands,  till 
they  fell  all  about  us  as  he  dragged  her  to  the 
door.  Then  he  took  her  in  his  great  arms, 
and  when  she  tore  at  his  yellow  hair  laughed 
with  a  sound  like  that  of  the  big  bull  seal  in 
the  rut. 

"  I  crawled  to  the  beach  and  called  upon 
my  people ;  but  they  were  afraid.    Only  Yash- 


226  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

Noosh  was  a  man,  and  they  struck  him  on  the 
head  with  an  oar,  till  he  lay  with  his  face  in 
the  sand  and  did  not  move.  And  they  raised 
the  sails  to  the  sound  of  their  songs,  and  the 
ship  went  away  on  the  wind. 

"  The  people  said  it  was  good,  for  there 
would  be  no  more  war  of  the  bloods  in  Aka- 
tan  ;  but  I  said  never  a  word,  waiting  till  the 
time  of  the  full  moon,  when  I  put  fish  and  oil 
in  my  kayak,  and  went  away  to  the  east.  I  saw 
many  islands  and  many  people,  and  I,  who 
had  lived  on  the  edge,  saw  that  the  world  was 
very  large.  I  talked  by  signs  ;  but  they  had 
not  seen  a  schooner  nor  a  man  with  the  mane 
of  a  sea  lion,  and  they  pointed  always  to  the 
east.  And  I  slept  in  queer  places,  and  ate 
odd  things,  and  met  strange  faces.  Many 
laughed,  for  they  thought  me  light  of  head ; 
but  sometimes  old  men  turned  my  face  to  the 
light  and  blessed  me,  and  the  eyes  of  the 
young  women  grew  soft  as  they  asked  me  of 
the  strange  ship,  and  Unga,  and  the  men 
of  the  sea. 

"  And  in  this  manner,  through  rough  seas 
and  great  storms,  I  came  to  Unalaska.  There 
were  two  schooners  there,  but  neither  was  the 
one  I  sought.  So  I  passed  on  to  the  east, 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       227 

with  the  world  growing  ever  larger,  and  in 
the  Island  of  Unamok  there  was  no  word  of 
the  ship,  nor  in  Kadiak,  nor  in  Atognak. 
And  so  I  came  one  day  to  a  rocky  land, 
where  men  dug  great  holes  in  the  mountain. 
And  there  was  a  schooner,  but  not  my 
schooner,  and  men  loaded  upon  it  the  rocks 
which  they  dug.  This  I  thought  childish, 
for  all  the  world  was  made  of  rocks ;  but  they 
gave  me  food  and  set  me  to  work.  When 
the  schooner  was  deep  in  the  water,  the  cap 
tain  gave  me  money  and  told  me  to  go ;  but 
I  asked  which  way  he  went,  and  he  pointed 
south.  I  made  signs  that  I  would  go  with 
him ;  and  he  laughed  at  first,  but  then,  being 
short  of  men,  took  me  to  help  work  the  ship. 
So  I  came  to  talk  after  their  manner,  and  to 
heave  on  ropes,  and  to  reef  the  stiff  sails  in 
sudden  squalls,  and  to  take  my  turn  at  the 
wheel.  But  it  was  not  strange,  for  the  blood 
of  my  fathers  was  the  blood  of  the  men  of 
the  sea. 

"  I  had  thought  it  an  easy  task  to  find  him 
I  sought,  once  I  got  among  his  own  people ; 
and  when  we  raised  the  land  one  day,  and 
passed  between  a  gateway  of  the  sea  to  a 
port,  I  looked  for  perhaps  as  many  schooners 


228  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

as  there  were  fingers  to  my  hands.  But  the 
ships  lay  against  the  wharves  for  miles,  packed 
like  so  many  little  fish;  and  when  I  went 
among  them  to  ask  for  a  man  with  the  mane 
of  a  sea  lion,  they  laughed,  and  answered  me 
in  the  tongues  of  many  peoples.  And  I 
found  that  they  hailed  from  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth. 

"And  I  went  into  the  city  to  look  upon 
the  face  of  every  man.  But  they  were  like 
the  cod  when  they  run  thick  on  the  banks, 
and  I  could  not  count  them.  And  the  noise 
smote  upon  me  till  I  could  not  hear,  and  my 
head  was  dizzy  with  much  movement.  So  I 
went  on  and  on,  through  the  lands  which 
sang  in  the  warm  sunshine ;  where  the  har 
vests  lay  rich  on  the  plains;  and  where  great 
cities  were  fat  with  men  that  lived  like 
women,  with  false  words  in  their  mouths  and 
their  hearts  black  with  the  lust  of  gold.  And 
all  the  while  my  people  of  Akatan  hunted 
and  fished,  and  were  happy  in  the  thought 
that  the  world  was  small. 

"  But  the  look  in  the  eyes  of  Unga  coming 
home  from  the  fishing  was  with  me  always, 
and  I  knew  I  would  find  her  when  the  time 
was  met.  She  walked  down  quiet  lanes  in 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       229 

the  dusk  of  the  evening,  or  led  me  chases 
across  the  thick  fields  wet  with  the  morning 
dew,  and  there  was  a  promise  in  her  eyes 
such  as  only  the  woman  Unga  could  give. 

"  So  I  wandered  through  a  thousand  cities. 
Some  were  gentle  and  gave  me  food,  and 
others  laughed,  and  still  others  cursed;  but  I 
kept  my  tongue  between  my  teeth,  and  went 
strange  ways  and  saw  strange  sights.  Some 
times,  I,  who  was  a  chief  and  the  son  of  a 
chief,  toiled  for  men,  —  men  rough  of  speech 
and  hard  as  iron,  who  wrung  gold  from  the 
sweat  and  sorrow  of  their  fellow  men.  Yet 
no  word  did  I  get  of  my  quest,  till  I  came 
back  to  the  sea  like  a  homing  seal  to  the 
rookeries.  But  this  was  at  another  port,  in 
another  country  which  lay  to  the  north.  And 
there  I  heard  dim  tales  of  the  yellow-haired 
sea  wanderer,  and  I  learned  that  he  was  a 
hunter  of  seals,  and  that  even  then  he  was 
abroad  on  the  ocean. 

"  So  I  shipped  on  a  seal  schooner  with  the 
lazy  Siwashes,  and  followed  his  trackless  trail 
to  the  north  where  the  hunt  was  then  warm. 
And  we  were  away  weary  months,  and  spoke 
many  of  the  fleet,  and  heard  much  of  the  wild 
doings  of  him  I  sought ;  but  never  once  did 


230  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

we  raise  him  above  the  sea.  We  went  north, 
even  to  the  Pribyloffs,  and  killed  the  seals  in 
herds  on  the  beach,  and  brought  their  warm 
bodies  aboard  till  our  scuppers  ran  grease 
and  blood  and  no  man  could  stand  upon  the 
deck.  Then  were  we  chased  by  a  ship  of 
slow  steam,  which  fired  upon  us  with  great 
guns.  But  we  put  on  sail  till  the  sea  was 
over  our  decks  and  washed  them  clean,  and 
lost  ourselves  in  a  fog. 

"  It  is  said,  at  this  time,  while  we  fled  with 
fear  at  our  hearts,  that  the  yellow-haired  sea 
wanderer  put  into  the  Pribyloffs,  right  to  the 
factory,  and  while  the  part  of  his  men  held  the 
servants  of  the  company,  the  rest  loaded  ten 
thousand  green  skins  from  the  salt-houses.  I 
say  it  is  said,  but  I  believe  ;  for  in  the  voy 
ages  I  made  on  the  coast  with  never  a  meet 
ing,  the  northern  seas  rang  with  his  wildness 
and  daring,  till  the  three  nations  which  have 
lands  there  sought  him  with  their  ships. 
And  I  heard  of  Unga,  for  the  captains  sang 
loud  in  her  praise,  and  she  was  always  with 
him.  She  had  learned  the  ways  of  his  peo 
ple,  they  said,  and  was  happy.  But  I  knew 
better,  —  knew  that  her  heart  harked  back  to 
her  own  people  by  the  yellow  beach  of  Akatan. 


AN  ODYSSEY   OF  THE   NORTH        231 

"  So,  after  a  long  time,  I  went  back  to  the 
port  which  is  by  a  gateway  of  the  sea,  and 
there  I  learned  that  he  had  gone  across  the 
girth  of  the  great  ocean  to  hunt  for  the  seal 
to  the  east  of  the  warm  land  which  runs 
south  from  the  Russian  Seas.  And  I,  who 
was  become  a  sailorman,  shipped  with  men  of 
his  own  race,  and  went  after  him  in  the  hunt 
of  the  seal.  And  there  were  few  ships  off 
that  new  land  ;  but  we  hung  on  the  flank  of 
the  seal  pack  and  harried  it  north  through  all 
the  spring  of  the  year.  And  when  the  cows 
were  heavy  with  pup  and  crossed  the  Russian 
line,  our  men  grumbled  and  were  afraid.  For 
there  was  much  fog,  and  every  day  men  were 
lost  in  the  boats.  They  would  not  work,  so 
the  captain  turned  the  ship  back  toward  the 
way  it  came.  But  I  knew  the  yellow-haired 
sea  wanderer  was  unafraid,  and  would  hang 
by  the  pack,  even  to  the  Russian  Isles,  where 
few  men  go.  So  I  took  a  boat,  in  the  black 
of  night,  when  the  lookout  dozed  on  the 

O         ' 

fok'slehead,  and  went  alone  to  the  warm, 
long  land.  And  I  journeyed  south  to  meet 
the  men  by  Yeddo  Bay,  who  are  wild  and 
unafraid.  And  the  Yoshiwara  girls  were 
small,  and  bright  like  steel,  and  good  to  look 


232  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

upon ;  but  I  could  not  stop,  for  I  knew  that 
Unga  rolled  on  the  tossing  floor  by  the  rook 
eries  of  the  north. 

"  The  men  by  Yeddo  Bay  had  met  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  had  neither  gods 
nor  homes,  sailing  under  the  flag  of  the  Japa 
nese.  And  with  them  I  went  to  the  rich 
beaches  of  Copper  Island,  where  our  salt-piles 
became  high  with  skins.  And  in  that  silent 
sea  we  saw  no  man  till  we  were  ready  to  come 
away.  Then,  one  day,  the  fog  lifted  on  the 
edge  of  a  heavy  wind,  and  there  jammed 
down  upon  us  a  schooner,  with  close  in  her 
wake  the  cloudy  funnels  of  a  Russian  man- 
of-war.  We  fled  away  on  the  beam  of  the 
wind,  with  the  schooner  jamming  still  closer 
and  plunging  ahead  three  feet  to  our  two. 
And  upon  her  poop  was  the  man  with  the 
mane  of  the  sea  lion,  pressing  the  rails  under 
with  the  canvas  and  laughing  in  his  strength 
of  life.  And  Unga  was  there,  —  I  knew  her 
on  the  moment, — but  he  sent  her  below 
when  the  cannons  began  to  talk  across  the 
sea.  As  I  say,  with  three  feet  to  our  two,  till 
we  saw  the  rudder  lift  green  at  every  jump, 
—  and  I  swinging  on  to  the  wheel  and  cursing, 
with  my  back  to  the  Russian  shot.  For  we 


AN   ODYSSEY  OF  THE   NORTH       233 

knew  he  had  it  in  mind  to  run  before  us, 
that  he  might  get  away  while  we  were  caught. 
And  they  knocked  our  masts  out  of  us  till  we 
dragged  into  the  wind  like  a  wounded  gull ; 
but  he  went  on  over  the  edge  of  the  sky-line, 
—  he  and  Unga. 

"  What  could  we  ?  The  fresh  hides  spoke 
for  themselves.  So  they  took  us  to  a  Kussian 
port,  and  after  that  to  a  lone  country,  where 
they  set  us  to  work  in  the  mines  to  dig  salt. 
And  some  died,  and  —  and  some  did  not 
die." 

Naass  swept  the  blanket  from  his  shoul 
ders,  disclosing  the  gnarled  and  twisted  flesh, 
marked  with  the  unmistakable  striations  of 
the  knout.  Prince  hastily  covered  him,  for 
it  was  not  nice  to  look  upon. 

"  We  were  there  a  weary  time ;  and  some 
times  men  got  away  to  the  south,  but  they 
always  came  back.  So,  when  we  who  hailed 
from  Yeddo  Bay  rose  in  the  night  and  took 
the  guns  from  the  guards,  we  went  to  the 
north.  And  the  land  was  very  large,  with 
plains,  soggy  with  water,  and  great  forests. 
And  the  cold  came,  with  much  snow  on  the 
ground,  and  no  man  knew  the  way.  Weary 
months  we  journeyed  through  the  endless  for- 


234  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

est,  —  I  do  not  remember,  now,  for  there  was 
little  food  and  often  we  lay  down  to  die.  But 
at  last  we  came  to  the  cold  sea,  and  but  three 
were  left  to  look  upon  it.  One  had  shipped 
from  Yeddo  as  captain,  and  he  knew  in  his 
head  the  lay  of  the  great  lands,  and  of  the 
place  where  men  may  cross  from  one  to  the 
other  on  the  ice.  And  he  led  us,  —  I  do 
not  know,  it  was  so  long,  —  till  there  were 
but  two.  When  we  came  to  that  place  we 
found  five  of  the  strange  people  which  live 
in  that  country,  and  they  had  dogs  and 
skins,  and  we  were  very  poor.  We  fought 
in  the  snow  till  they  died,  and  the  captain 
died,  and  the  dogs  and  skins  were  mine. 
Then  I  crossed  on  the  ice,  which  was  broken, 
and  once  I  drifted  till  a  gale  from  the  west 
put  me  upon  the  shore.  And  after  that, 
Golovin  Bay,  Pastilik,  and  the  priest.  Then 
south,  south,  to  the  warm  sunlands  where 
first  I  wandered. 

"  But  the  sea  was  no  longer  fruitful,  and 
those  who  went  upon  it  after  the  seal  went  to 
little  profit  and  great  risk.  The  fleets  scat 
tered,  and  the  captains  and  the  men  had  no 
word  of  those  I  sought.  So  I  turned  away 
from  the  ocean  which  never  rests,  and  went 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE   NORTH       235 

among  the  lands,  where  the  trees,  the  houses, 
and  the  mountains  sit  always  in  one  place 
and  do  not  move.  I  journeyed  far,  and  came 
to  learn  many  things,  even  to  the  way  of 
reading  and  writing  from  books.  It  was 
well  I  should  do  this,  for  it  came  upon  me 
that  Unga  must  know  these  things,  and  that 
some  day,  when  the  time  was  met  —  we  — 
you  understand,  when  the  time  was  met. 

"  So  I  drifted,  like  those  little  fish  which 
raise  a  sail  to  the  wind,  but  cannot  steer. 
But  my  eyes  and  my  ears  were  open  always, 
and  I  went  among  men  who  traveled  much, 
for  I  knew  they  had  but  to  see  those  I 
sought,  to  remember.  At  last  there  came 
a  man,  fresh  from  the  mountains,  with  pieces 
of  rock  in  which  the  free  gold  stood  to  the 
size  of  peas,  and  he  had  heard,  he  had  met, 
he  knew  them.  They  were  rich,  he  said,  and 
lived  in  the  place  where  they  drew  the  gold 
from  the  ground. 

"  It  was  in  a  wild  country,  and  very  far 
away;  but  in  time  I  came  to  the  camp, 
hidden  between  the  mountains,  where  men 
worked  night  and  day,  out  of  the  sight  of 
the  sun.  Yet  the  time  was  not  come.  I 
listened  to  the  talk  of  the  people.  He  had 


236  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

gone  away,  —  they  had  gone  away,  —  to 
England,  it  was  said,  in  the  matter  of  bring 
ing  men  with  much  money  together  to  form 
companies.  I  saw  the  house  they  had  lived 
in ;  more  like  a  palace,  such  as  one  sees  in 
the  old  countries.  In  the  nighttime  I  crept 
in  through  a  window  that  I  might  see  in 
what  manner  he  treated  her.  I  went  from 
room  to  room,  and  in  such  way  thought 
kings  ajid  queens  must  live,  it  was  all  so 
very  good.  And  they  all  said  he  treated  her 
like  a  queen,  and  many  marveled  as  to  what 
breed  of  woman  she  was ;  for  there  was  other 
blood  in  her  veins,  and  she  was  different  from 
the  women  of  Akatan,  and  no  one  knew  her 
for  what  she  was.  Ay,  she  was  a  queen ;  but 
I  was  a  chief,  and  the  son  of  a  chief,  and  I 
had  paid  for  her  an  untold  price  of  skin  and 
boat  and  bead. 

66  But  wrhy  so  many  words?  I  was  a  sailor- 
man,  and  knew  the  wray  of  the  ships  on  the 
seas.  I  followed  to  England,  and  then  to 
other  countries.  Sometimes  I  heard  of  them 
by  word  of  mouth,  sometimes  I  read  of  them 
in  the  papers ;  yet  never  once  could  I  come 
by  them,  for  they  had  much  money,  and 
traveled  fast,  while  I  was  a  poor  man.  Then 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE  NORTH       237 

came  trouble  upon  them,  and  their  wealth 
slipped  away,  one  day,  like  a  curl  of  smoke. 
The  papers  were  full  of  it  at  the  time  ;  but 
after  that  nothing  was  said,  and  I  knew  they 
had  gone  back  'where  more  gold  could  be  got 
from  the  ground. 

"  They  had  dropped  out  of  the  world, 
being  now  poor ;  and  so  I  wandered  from 
camp  to  camp,  even  north  to  the  Kootenay 
Country,  where  I  picked  up  the  cold  scent. 
They  had  come  and  gone,  some  said  this 
way,  and  some  that,  and  still  others  that 
they  had  gone  to  the  Country  of  the  Yukon. 
And  I  went  this  way,  and  I  went  that,  ever 
journeying  from  place  to  place,  till  it  seemed 
I  must  grow  weary  of  the  world  which  was 
so  large.  But  in  the  Kootenay  I  traveled  a 
bad  trail,  and  a  long  trail,  with  a  (  breed '  of 
the  Northwest,  who  saw  fit  to  die  when  the 
famine  pinched.  He  had  been  to  the  Yukon 
by  an  unknown  way  over  the  mountains,  and 
when  he  knew  his  time  was  near  gave  me  the 
map  and  the  secret  of  a  place  where  he  swore 
by  his  gods  there  was  much  gold. 

"  After  that  all  the  world  began  to  flock 
into  the  north.  I  was  a  poor  man  ;  I  sold 
myself  to  be  a  driver  of  dogs.  The  rest  you 


238  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

know.  I  met  him  and  her  in  Dawson.  She 
did  not  know  me,  for  I  was  only  a  stripling, 
and  her  life  had  been  large,  so  she  had  no 
time  to  remember  the  one  who  had  paid  for 
her  an  untold  price. 

"  So  ?  You  bought  me  from  my  term  of 
service.  I  went  back  to  bring  things  about 
in  my  own  way ;  for  I  had  waited  long,  and 
now  that  I  had  my  hand  upon  him  was  in  no 
hurry.  As  I  say,  I  had  it  in  mind  to  do  my 
own  way ;  for  I  read  back  in  my  life,  through 
all  I  had  seen  and  suffered,  and  remembered 
the  cold  and  hunger  of  the  endless  forest  by 
the  Russian  Seas.  As  you  know,  I  led  him 
into  the  east, — him  and  Unga,  —  into  the 
east  where  many  have  gone  and  few  returned. 
I  led  them  to  the  spot  where  the  bones  and 
the  curses  of  men  lie  with  the  gold  which 
they  may  not  have. 

"  The  way  was  long  and  the  trail  unpacked. 
Our  dogs  were  many  and  ate  much  ;  nor  could 
our  sleds  carry  till  the  break  of  spring.  We 
must  come  back  before  the  river  ran  free.  So 
here  and  there  we  cached  grub,  that  our 
sleds  might  be  lightened  and  there  be  no 
chance  of  famine  on  the  back  trip.  At  the 
McQuestion  there  were  three  men,  and  near 


AN   ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       239 

them  we  built  a  cache,  as  also  did  we  at 
the  Mayo,  where  was  a  hunting-camp  of  a 
dozen  Pellys  which  had  crossed  the  divide 
from  the  south.  After  that,  as  we  went  on 
into  the  east,  we  saw  no  men ;  only  the  sleep 
ing  river,  the  moveless  forest,  and  the  White 
Silence  of  the  North.  As  I  say,  the  way  was 
long  and  the  trail  unpacked.  Sometimes,  in 
a  day's  toil,  we  made  no  more  than  eight 
miles,  or  ten,  and  at  night  we  slept  like  dead 
men.  And  never  once  did  they  dream  that 
I  was  Naass,  head  man  of  Akatan,  the  righter 
of  wrongs. 

"  We  now  made  smaller  caches,  and  in  the 
nighttime  it  was  a  small  matter  to  go  back  on 
the  trail  we  had  broken,  and  change  them  in 
such  way  that  one  might  deem  the  wolverines 
the  thieves.  Again,  there  be  places  where 
there  is  a  fall  to  the  river,  and  the  water  is 
unruly,  and  the  ice  makes  above  and  is  eaten 
away  beneath.  In  such  a  spot  the  sled  I 
drove  broke  through,  and  the  dogs ;  and  to 
him  and  Unga  it  was  ill  luck,  but  no  more. 
And  there  was  much  grub  on  that  sled,  and 
the  dogs  the  strongest.  But  he  laughed,  for 
he  was  strong  of  life,  and  gave  the  dogs  that 
were  left  little  grub  till  we  cut  them  from  the 


240  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

harnesses,  one  by  one,  and  fed  them  to  their 
mates.  We  would  go  home  light,  he  said, 
traveling  and  eating  from  cache  to  cache, 
with  neither  dogs  nor  sleds ;  which  was 
true,  for  our  grub  was  very  short,  and  the 
last  dog  died  in  the  traces  the  night  we  came 
to  the  gold  and  the  bones  and  the  curses  of 
men. 

"  To  reach  that  place, — and  the  map  spoke 
true,  —  in  the  heart  of  the  great  mountains, 
we  cut  ice  steps  against  the  wall  of  a  divide. 
One  looked  for  a  valley  beyond,  but  there 
was  no  valley ;  the  snow  spread  away,  level 
as  the  great  harvest  plains,  and  here  and 
there  about  us  mighty  mountains  shoved 
their  white  heads  among  the  stars.  And 
midway  on  that  strange  plain  which  should 
have  been  a  valley,  the  earth  and  the  snow 
fell  away,  straight  down  toward  the  heart  of 
the  world.  Had  we  not  been  sailormen  our 
heads  would  have  swung  round  with  the 
sight ;  but  we  stood  on  the  dizzy  edge  that 
we  might  see  a  way  to  get  down.  And  on 
one  side,  and  one  side  only,  the  wall  had 
fallen  away  till  it  was  like  the  slope  of  the 
decks  in  a  topsail  breeze.  I  do  not  know 
why  this  thing  should  be  so,  but  it  was  so. 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE  NORTH       241 

'  It  is  the  mouth  of  hell/  he  said ;  '  let  us  go 
down.'  And  we  went  down. 

66  And  on  the  bottom  there  was  a  cabin, 
built  by  some  man,  of  logs  which  he  had 
cast  down  from  above.  It  was  a  very  old 
cabin  ;  for  men  had  died  there  alone  at  dif 
ferent  times,  and  on  pieces  of  birch  bark 
which  were  there  we  read  their  last  words 
and  their  curses.  One  had  died  of  scurvy ; 
another's  partner  had  robbed  him  of  his  last 
grub  and  powder  and  stolen  away ;  a  third 
had  been  mauled  by  a  bald-face  grizzly ;  a 
fourth  had  hunted  for  game  and  starved,  — 
and  so  it  went,  and  they  had  been  loath  to 
leave  the  gold,  and  had  died  by  the  side  of 
it  in  one  way  or  another.  And  the  worthless 
gold  they  had  gathered  yellowed  the  floor  of 
the  cabin  like  in  a  dream. 

"  But  his  soul  was  steady,  and  his  head 
clear,  this  man  I  had  led  thus  far.  '  We 
have  nothing  to  eat,'  he  said,  'and  we  will 
only  look  upon  this  gold,  and  see  whence  it 
comes  and  how  much  there  be.  Then  we 
will  go  away  quick,  before  it  gets  into  our 
eyes  and  steals  away  our  judgment.  And  in 
this  way  we  may  return  in  the  end,  with  more 
grub,  and  possess  it  all.'  So  we  looked  upon 


242  THE  SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

the  great  vein,  which  cut  the  wall  of  the  pit 
as  a  true  vein  should ;  and  we  measured  it, 
and  traced  it  from  above  and  below,  and 
drove  the  stakes  of  the  claims  and  blazed  the 
trees  in  token  of  our  rights.  Then,  our  knees 
shaking  with  lack  of  food,  and  a  sickness  in 
our  bellies,  and  our  hearts  chugging  close  to 
our  mouths,  we  climbed  the  mighty  wall  for 
the  last  time  and  turned  our  faces  to  the 
back  trip. 

"  The  last  stretch  we  dragged  Unga  be 
tween  us,  and  we  fell  often,  but  in  the  end 
we  made  the  cache.  And  lo,  there  was  no 
grub.  It  was  well  done,  for  he  thought  it 
the  wolverines,  and  damned  them  and  his 
gods  in  the  one  breath.  But  Unga  was 
brave,  and  smiled,  and  put  her  hand  in  his, 
till  I  turned  away  that  I  might  hold  myself. 
'  We  will  rest  by  the  fire,'  she  said,  '  till 
morning,  and  we  will  gather  strength  from 
our  moccasins/  So  we  cut  the  tops  of  our 
moccasins  in  strips,  and  boiled  them  half  of 
the  night,  that  we  might  chew  them  and 
swallow  them.  And  in  the  morning  we 
talked  of  our  chance.  The  next  cache  was 
five  days'  journey ;  we  could  not  make  it. 
We  must  find  game. 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF   THE   NORTH        243 

"  '  We  will  go  forth  and  hunt/  he  said. 

"'Yes,'  said  I,  'we  will  go  forth  and 
hunt.' 

"  And  he  ruled  that  Unga  stay  by  the 
fire  and  save  her  strength.  And  we  went 
forth,  he  in  quest  of  the  moose,  and  I  to  the 
cache  I  had  changed.  But  I  ate  little,  so 
they  might  not  see  in  me  much  strength. 
And  in  the  night  he  fell  many  times  as  he 
drew  into  camp.  And  I  too  made  to  suffer 
great  weakness,  stumbling  over  my  snow- 
shoes  as  though  each  step  might  be  my  last. 
And  we  gathered  strength  from  our  moc 
casins. 

"  He  was  a  great  man.  His  soul  lifted 
his  body  to  the  last;  nor  did  he  cry  aloud, 
save  for  the  sake  of  Unga.  On  the  second 
day  I  followed  him,  that  I  might  not  miss  the 
end.  And  he  lay  down  to  rest  often.  That 
night  he  was  near  gone  ;  but  in  the  morning 
he  swore  weakly  and  went  forth  again.  He 
was  like  a  drunken  man,  and  I  looked  many 
times  for  him  to  give  up  ;  but  his  was  the 
strength  of  the  strong,  and  his  soul  the  soul 
of  a  giant,  for  he  lifted  his  body  through  all 
the  weary  day.  And  he  shot  two  ptarmigan, 
but  would  not  eat  them.  He  needed  no  fire; 


244  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

they  meant  life ;  but  his  thought  was  for 
Unga,  and  he  turned  toward  camp.  He  no 
longer  walked,  but  crawled  on  hand  and  knee 
through  the  snow.  I  came  to  him,  and  read 
death  in  his  eyes.  Even  then  it  was  not  too 
late  to  eat  of  the  ptarmigan.  He  cast  away 
his  rifle,  and  carried  the  birds  in  his  mouth 
like  a  dog.  I  walked  by  his  side,  upright. 
And  he  looked  at  me  during  the  moments  he 

o 

rested,  and  wondered  that  I  was  so  strong. 
I  could  see  it,  though  he  no  longer  spoke ; 
and  when  his  lips  moved,  they  moved  with 
out  sound.  As  I  say,  he  was  a  great  man, 
and  my  heart  spoke  for  softness  ;  but  I  read 
back  in  my  life,  and  remembered  the  cold 
and  hunger  of  the  endless  forest  by  the  Rus 
sian  Seas.  Besides,  Unga  was  mine,  and  I 
had  paid  for  her  an  untold  price  of  skin  and 
boat  and  bead. 

"  And  in  this  manner  we  came  through 
the  white  forest,  with  the  silence  heavy  upon 
us  like  a  damp  sea  mist.  And  the  ghosts  of 
the  past  were  in  the  air  and  all  about  us ;  and 
I  saw  the  yellow  beach  of  Akatan,  and  the 
kayaks  racing  home  from  the  fishing,  and 
the  houses  on  the  rim  of  the  forest.  And 
the  men  who  had  made  themselves  chiefs 


AN   ODYSSEY   OF  THE  NORTH        245 

were  there,  the  lawgivers  whose  blood  I  bore, 
and  whose  blood  I  had  wedded  in  Unga.  Ay, 
and  Yash-Noosh  walked  with  me,  the  wet 
sand  in  his  hair,  and  his  war  spear,  broken 
as  he  fell  upon  it,  still  in  his  hand.  And  I 
knew  the  time  was  met,  and  saw  in  the  eyes 
of  Unga  the  promise. 

"  As  I  say,  we  came  thus  through  the  for 
est,  till  the  smell  of  the  camp  smoke  was  in 
our  nostrils.  And  I  bent  above  him,  and 
tore  the  ptarmigan  from  his  teeth.  He 
turned  on  his  side  and  rested,  the  wonder 
mounting  in  his  eyes,  and  the  hand  which 
was  under  slipping  slow  toward  the  knife  at 
his  hip.  But  I  took  it  from  him,  smiling 
close  in  his  face.  Even  then  he  did  not 
understand.  So  I  made  to  drink  from  black 
bottles,  and  to  build  high  upon  the  snow  a 
pile  of  goods,  and  to  live  again  the  things 
which  happened  on  the  night  of  my  marriage. 
I  spoke  no  word,  but  he  understood.  Yet 
was  he  unafraid.  There  was  a  sneer  to  his 
lips,  and  cold  anger,  and  he  gathered  new 
strength  with  the  knowledge.  It  was  not 
far,  but  the  snow  was  deep,  and  he  dragged 
himself  very  slow.  Once,  he  lay  so  long,  I 
turned  him  over  and  gazed  into  his  eyes. 


246  THE   SON   OF  THE   WOLF 

And  sometimes  he  looked  forth,  and  some 
times  death.  And  when  I  loosed  him  he 
struggled  on  again.  In  this  way  we  came 
to  the  fire.  Unga  was  at  his  side  on  the 
instant.  His  lips  moved,  without  sound ; 
then  he  pointed  at  me,  that  Unga  might 
understand.  And  after  that  he  lay  in  the 
snow,  very  still,  for  a  long  while.  Even  now 
is  he  there  in  the  snow. 

"  I  said  no  word  till  I  had  cooked  the 
ptarmigan.  Then  I  spoke  to  her,  in  her  own 
tongue,  which  she  had  not  heard  in  many 
years.  She  straightened  herself,  so,  and  her 
eyes  were  wonder-wide,  and  she  asked  who 
I  was,  and  where  I  had  learned  that  speech. 

"  '  I  am  Naass,'  I  said. 

"'You?'  she  said.  'You?'  And  she 
crept  close  that  she  might  look  upon  me. 

"  '  Yes,'  I  answered ;  '  I  am  Naass,  head 
man  of  Akatan,  the  last  of  the  blood,  as  you 
are  the  last  of  the  blood.' 

"  And  she  laughed.  By  all  the  things  I 
have  seen  and  the  deeds  I  have  done,  may  I 
never  hear  such  a  laugh  again.  It  put  the 
chill  to  my  soul,  sitting  there  in  the  White 
Silence,  alone  with  death  and  this  woman  who 
laughed. 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH       247 

"  '  Come  !  '  I  said,  for  I  thought  she  wan 
dered.  '  Eat  of  the  food  and  let  us  be  gone. 
It  is  a  far  fetch  from  here  to  Akatan.' 

"But  she  shoved  her  face  in  his  yellow 
mane,  and  laughed  till  it  seemed  the  heavens 
must  fall  about  our  ears.  I  had  thought  she 
would  be  overjoyed  at  the  sight  of  me,  and 
eager  to  go  back  to  the  memory  of  old  times ; 
but  this  seemed  a  strange  form  to  take. 

"  '  Come ! '  I  cried,  taking  her  strong  by 
the  hand.  ( The  way  is  long  and  dark.  Let 
us  hurry !  ' 

"  '  Where  ? '  she  asked,  sitting  up,  and 
ceasing  from  her  strange  mirth. 

" (  To  Akatan/  I  answered,  intent  on  the 
light  to  grow  on  her  face  at  the  thought. 
But  it  became  like  his,  with  a  sneer  to  the 
lips,  and  cold  anger. 

"  '  Yes/  she  said  ;  '  we  will  go,  hand  in 
hand,  to  Akatan,  you  and  I.  And  we  will 
live  in  the  dirty  huts,  and  eat  of  the  fish  and 
oil,  and  bring  forth  a  spawn,  —  a  spawn  to 
be  proud  of  all  the  days  of  our  life.  We  will 
forget  the  world  and  be  happy,  very  happy. 
It  is  good,  most  good.  Come !  Let  us 
hurry.  Let  us  go  back  to  Akatan.' 

"  And  she  ran  her  hand  through  his  yel- 


248  THE   SON   OF   THE   WOLF 

low  hair,  and  smiled  in  a  way  which  was  not 
good.  And  there  was  no  promise  in  her  eyes. 
"  I  sat  silent,  and  marveled  at  the  strange 
ness  of  woman.  I  went  back  to  the  night 
when  he  dragged  her  from  me,  and  she 
screamed  and  tore  at  his  hair,  —  at  his  hair 
which  now  she  played  with  and  would  not 
leave.  Then  I  remembered  the  price  and  the 
long  years  of  waiting  ;  and  I  gripped  her 
close,  and  dragged  her  away  as  he  had  done. 
And  she  held  back,  even  as  on  that  night, 
and  fought  like  a  she-cat  for  its  whelp.  And 
when  the  fire  was  between  us  and  the  man,  I 
loosed  her,  and  she  sat  and  listened.  And  I 
told  her  of  all  that  lay  between,  of  all  that 
had  happened  me  on  strange  seas,  of  all  that 
I  had  done  in  strange  lands ;  of  my  weary 
quest,  and  the  hungry  years,  and  the  promise 
which  had  been  mine  from  the  first.  Ay,  I 
told  all,  even  to  what  had  passed  that  day  be 
tween  the  man  and  me,  and  in  the  days  yet 
young.  And  as  I  spoke  I  saw  the  promise 
grow  in  her  eyes,  full  and  large  like  the 
break  of  dawn.  And  I  read  pity  there,  the 
tenderness  of  woman,  the  love,  the  heart  and 
the  soul  of  Unga.  And  I  was  a  stripling 
again,  for  the  look  was  the  look  of  Unga  as 


AN  ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH        249 

she  ran  up  the  beach,  laughing,  to  the  home 
of  her  mother.  The  stern  unrest  was  gone, 
and  the  hunger,  and  the  weary  waiting.  The 
time  was  met.  I  felt  the  call  of  her  breast, 
and  it  seemed  there  I  must  pillow  my  head 
and  forget.  She  opened  her  arms  to  me,  and 
I  came  against  her.  Then,  sudden,  the  hate 
flamed  in  her  eye,  her  hand  was  at  my  hip. 
And  once,  twice,  she  passed  the  knife. 

"  '  Dog  ! '  she  sneered,  as  she  flung  me  into 
the  snow.  '  Swine  ! '  And  then  she  laughed 
till  the  silence  cracked,  and  went  back  to  her 
dead. 

"  As  I  say,  once  she  passed  the  knife,  and 
twice  ;  but  she  was  weak  with  hunger,  and  it 
was  not  meant  that  I  should  die.  Yet  was  I 
minded  to  stay  in  that  place,  and  to  close  my 
eyes  in  the  last  long  sleep  with  those  whose 
lives  had  crossed  with  mine  and  led  my  feet 
on  unknown  trails.  But  there  lay  a  debt 
upon  me  which  would  not  let  me  rest. 

"And  the  way  was  long,  the  cold  bitter, and 
there  was  little  grub.  The  Pellys  had  found 
no  moose,  and  had  robbed  my  cache.  And 
so  had  the  three  white  men  ;  but  they  lay 
thin  and  dead  in  their  cabin  as  I  passed. 
After  that  I  do  not  remember,  till  I  came 


250  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF 

here,  and  found  food  and  fire,  —  much 
fire." 

As  he  finished,  he  crouched  closely,  even 
jealously,  over  the  stove.  For  a  long  while 
the  slush-lamp  shadows  played  tragedies  upon 
the  wall. 

"  But  Unga  !  "  cried  Prince,  the  vision  still 
strong  upon  him. 

"  Unga  ?  She  would  not  eat  of  the  ptar 
migan.  She  lay  with  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  her  face  deep  in  his  yellow  hair.  I 
drew  the  fire  close,  that  she  might  not  feel 

7  O 

the  frost ;  but  she  crept  to  the  other  side. 
And  I  built  a  fire  there  ;  yet  it  was  little  good, 
for  she  would  not  eat.  And  in  this  manner 
they  still  lie  up  there  in  the  snow." 

"  And  you  ?  "  asked  Malemute  Kid. 

"  I  do  not  know ;  but  Akatan  is  small, 
and  I  have  little  wish  to  go  back  and  live  on 
the  edge  of  the  world.  Yet  is  there  small 
use  in  life.  I  can  go  to  Constantine,  and  he 
will  put  irons  upon  me,  and  one  day  they 
will  tie  a  piece  of  rope,  so,  and  I  will  sleep 
good.  Yet  —  no  ;  I  do  not  know." 

"But,  Kid,"  protested  Prince,  "this  is 
murder  !  " 

"  Hush  !  "    commanded     Malemute     Kid. 


AN   ODYSSEY  OF  THE  NORTH        251 

66  There  be  things  greater  than  our  wisdom, 
beyond  our  justice.  The  right  and  the 
wrong  of  this  we  cannot  say,  and  it  is  not  for 
us  to  judge." 

Naass  drew  yet  closer  to  the  fire.  There 
was  a  great  silence,  and  in  each  man's  eyes 
many  pictures  came  and  went. 


fiitontfi&e 

PRINTED  BY  H.  O.  HOUGHTON  ft  CO. 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 

U.S.  A. 


CIRCULATING  BOOK 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


BDD11SDS77 


